



TO HENLEY CHAPMAN, ESQ., 


OF MOUNT PROSPECT, GILES COUNTY, VIRGINIA. 


Sir, 

This work, which I commenced, during 
my residence beneath your roof, at your 
request, I have finished, and now lay be- 
fore you; yet, I must confess, with some 
apprehension of its not being as favoiirably 
read as I could have wished. When 1 
proposed your perusal of The Lady of the 
Lake, recommending it, as one of my most 
favourite, and most admired of all Sir 
Walter Scott’s works, your reply was, 
If it was not poetry, I would peruse it, as 
^ou extol its merits and beauties so en- 
thusiastically Then,” said I, laughing, 
suppose I transpose this piece for your 


DEDICATION. 


particular reading.” ‘Uf you will, I cer- 
tainly will read it with great pleasure.’^ 
This, a few months previous to my leaving 
Virginia, was our conversation. I com- 
menced the work, finished the first Canto, 
and read it to you. Your approbation, and 
commendation, prompted, perhaps, by a 
tincture of vanity, natural to our sex, in- 
duced me, since my arrival in Philadelphia, 
to finish what had been undertaken almost 
in your presence. I now lay it with all 
its imperfections (and they are many) be- 
fore you. From a perusal of this imper- 
fect transposition of the ‘^Lady of the 
Lake” to the Scottish Exiles,” I hope 
you will be induced to give Sir Walter’s 
inimitable production, of which this is a 
shadow, that has lost much in reflection, a 
place in your hands, when leisure shall re- 
sume the place of such a multiplicity of 
occupations as encroach upon your hours. 

I have endeavoured as far as the subject 
would admit, to use the express language 
of the illustrious poet, and when this could 
not be done consistently with the narrative. 


DEDICATION. 


5 


I have ventured to obtrude my own senti- 
ments; also a few slight alterations, or ra- 
ther, more minute details. That this work 
has lost much of its beauties from transpo- 
sition, cannot be denied. This will be 
better seen by a perusal of the Lady of 
the Lake.” Poetry, such as is contained 
in that work, must give the soul of sensi- 
bility a flow of pleasure which the most 
elegant prose would fail in producing. To 
our reason, a feast, w’hich can never be 
ours, in wandering through volumes of the 
best prose writers of ancient or modern 
times. I hope, therefore, sir, you will 
spare this my first attempt as a writer^ and 
more particularly when you are informed 
that the first idea of writing was that of 
giving you a few hours amusement after 
the dry business of the law, permitted those 
hours of relaxation from such profound 
researches. If I have succeeded, or can 
succeed, I am fully recompensed for the 
chagrin I have experienced on a reperusal 
of the work; finding it shorn, as it is, of 
its many poetical beauties. With a request 
A 2 


6 


DEDICATION. 


that you will receive this first production 
from my pen, as a tribute of respect and 
esteem for your character and abilities^ 
permit me to sign the familiar name of 
your friend 

Ernestine. 


Philadelphia, Feb, 1, 1827. 


THE 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


THE CHASE. 

The sun had kindled his red beacon 
upon Benvoirlich’s head, when the deep- 
mouthed blood-hounds’ heavy bay resound- 
ed through the rocky path, and the faint 
sound of the hoof, and clang of horn echoed 
through the dale. The antlered monarch 
of the w^aste sprung from his heathy couch, 
shook the dew-drops from his flanks, and, 
like a crested leader, tossed his frontlet 
high in air; trembling he gazed down the 
dale one moment, snuffed the air, listened 
to the hounds’ loud bay, and, in the next,'^ 
with one bound, cleared the copse, and 
stretched his way to the heaths of Uamvar. 
A hundred dogs scented their course, and 
a hundred proud steeds tossed their flow- 
ing manes in the blast as they clattered 
along; the horns rang their merry peal, and 
a hundred voices, with wild halloo, re- 
echoed along Benvoirlich’s brow. As the 
gallant train passed on, a faint echo was all 


8 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


which remained upon the disturbed heights 
of Uamvar, for silence settled wide and 
still around. High in his path-way hung 
the sun, and many a gallant was compelled 
to give breath to his weary, faltering steed. 
The bold, noble stag was seen poising upon 
the mountain’s southern brow, below 
which far extended the varied realms of 
Monteith. With anxious eye he surveyed 
mountains and meadow, seemingly ponder- 
ing upon a place of retreat from his pursu- 
ing enemies, the hounds and hunters. The 
copse wood that waved o’er Loch-Achray 
fixed his wandering eye, hope gave fresh 
vigour to his flying feet, he left the heath, 
and flew westward, leaving the panting 
hounds and wearied steeds far behind. 
One horseman alone, with unabated zeal, 
followed on, spurring his goaded steed, who, 
embossed with foam, and soiled with dirt, 
gasped for breath, as he w^as urged on by 
the hunter, followed by two dogs, said to 
have been of Saint Hubert’s breed. These 
were the hounds which the Abbots of St. 
Hubert always kept some of their race in 
honour or remembrance of their saint, who 
was a hunter with St. Eustace, unmatched 
for courage, breath and speed. Fast flying, 
they were scarce a spear’s length from the 
stag, who bounded up the margin of the 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


9 


lake, between precipices, and over rocks of 
stupendous height. The hunter checked 
his rein, and marked with exulting eye, 
the western boundary of the lake, which he 
thought must turn the game, as his way 
seemed completely barred. Already had 
he marked the glorious prize, won by toil, 
his own; and measured its branching ant- 
lers with elated heart. He rushed forward 
to secure his prey by a death wound; 
thundering on with steady arm and his 
weapon bare. But the wily animal shunned 
the blow, and turning from the opposing 
rock dashed down a deep glen, and was 
soon lost to hound and hunter. The hun- 
ter, disappointed in his aim, cheered on 
his dogs, and dashed furiously onward, but 
stumbling in the rugged dell, the gallant 
horse fell exhausted to the earth. The im- 
patient rider strove in vain to rouse him 
by the’steel ; he stretched his stiffened limbs 
to rise no more. Touched with pity and 
remorse for the gallant beast, the hunter 
looked upon, and sorrowed over him as he 
lay stiff in death. ‘‘Ah!^’ he exclaimed, 
as he gazed upon him, ‘‘I little thought 
when we were upon the banks of Seine, 
that eagles should feed upon thy fleet limbs, 
my matchless steed; wo to the chase; wo 
to the day, which has cost the life cf my 


8 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


which remained upon the disturbed heights 
of Uamvar, for silence settled wide and 
still around. High in his path-way hung 
the sun, and many a gallant was compelled 
to give breath to his weary, faltering steed. 
The bold, noble stag was seen poising upon 
the mountain’s southern brow, below 
which far extended the varied realms of 
Monteith. With anxious eye he surveyed 
mountains and meadow, seemingly ponder- 
ing upon a place of retreat from his pursu- 
ing enemies, the hounds and hunters. The 
copse wood that waved o’er Loch-Achray 
fixed his wandering eye, hope gave fresh 
vigour to his flying feet, he left the heath, 
and flew westward, leaving the panting 
hounds and wearied steeds far behind. 
One horseman alone, with unabated zeal, 
followed on,"spurring his goaded steed, who, 
embossed with foam, and soiled with dirt, 
gasped for breath, as he was urged on by 
the hunter, followed by two dogs, said to 
have been of Saint Hubert’s breed. These 
were the hounds which the Abbots of St. 
Hubert always kept some of their race in 
honour or remembrance of their saint, who 
was a hunter with St. Eustace, unmatched 
for courage, breath and speed. Fast flying, 
they were scarce a spear’s length from the 
stag, who bounded up the margin of the 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


9 


lake, between precipices, and over rocks of 
stupendous height. The hunter checked 
his rein, and marked with exulting eye, 
the western boundary of the lake, which he 
thought must turn the game, as his way 
seemed completely barred. Already had 
he marked the glorious prize, won by toil, 
his own; and measured its branching ant- 
lers with elated heart. He rushed forward 
to secure his prey by a death wound; 
thundering on with steady arm and his 
weapon bare. But the wily animal shunned 
the blow, and turning from the opposing 
rock dashed down a deep glen, and was 
soon lost to hound and hunter. The hun- 
ter, disappointed in his aim, cheered on 
his dogs, and dashed furiously" onward, but 
stumbling in the rugged dell, the gallant 
horse fell exhausted to the earth. The im- 
patient rider strove in vain to rouse him 
by the'steel ; he stretched his stiffened limbs 
to rise no more. Touched with pity and 
remorse for the gallant beast, the hunter 
looked upon, and sorrowed over him as He 
lay stiff in death. ‘‘Ah!’^ he exclaimed, 
as he gazed upon him, ‘‘I little thought 
when we were upon the banks of Seine, 
that eagles should feed upon thy fleet limbs, 
my matchless steed: wo to the chase; wo 
to the day, which has cost the life of my 


10 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


gallant horse.” He placed his lips upon a 
tasselled, gaily gilt horn, and the dale re- 
sounded to the sound. Back came the 
hounds, slow, and crippled. They couched 
to their master’s side, with dropping tails, 
and fallen crest. The hunter moved on 
to gain his comrades; but often paused to 
contemplate the wondrous beauties of the 
surrounding scenery. The western waves 
of closing day rolled over the glen. The 
purple peaks of the distant mountains, and 
flinty spires of the rocks were bathed in 
floods of living fire. Not one setting beam 
illumined the dark ravine, through which 
the hunter’s path wound: round pyramids 
of rocks, shooting abruptly from the dell 
in thunder splintered pinnacles, which seem- 
ed fantastically to represent turrets, domes, 
or the battlements of ruined castles, or 
mosques of eastern architect, only met his 
eye. Nor were these divested of ornament, 
from their shivered brows, far over the 
unfathomable glade, glittering with the 
early dew drop, the wild brier-rose fell in 
floating streamers, intermingled with creep- 
ing shrubs of a thousand dyes, and waved 
like banners from the battlements of an- 
cient castles, in the west winds of summer. 
Far and wide, free and wild, nature scat- 
tered her beauties around. Here eglantine 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 1 1 

embalmed the air, hav/thorn and hazel 
mingled their blossoms. The primrose 
and violet peeped from each cleft; gray- 
birch and aspin grew beneath, and far above 
the ash and warrior oak waved proudly 
cheir spreading limbs upon the rifted rock; 
and, yet higher, the pine hung his shatter- 
ed trunk, where the cliffs seemed to meet 
on high. Highest of all, white peaks 
rose to view, were glistening streamers 
seemed waving and dancing to the evening 
breeze. The hunter’s eye could scarcely 
view the blue expanse of the sky which 
canopied his head. Onward, as he went, 
a narrow inlet, deep and still, met his view. 
As he pursued his way, it became lost to 
his eye; but, a few yards further, it again 
appeared still broader, swept its channels, 
and wave on wave seemed to float, and ex- 
tend itself among the hills; it became, at 
last, an island in an inland sea. Here he 
stood, bewildered and perplexed; not a path- 
way seemed to exist: the only alternative 
was to climb with nice footing a project- 
ing prc^cipice. The broom’s tough roots 
served him as a ladder, and the hazel sap- 
lins to aid him in his aerial ascent. lie 
gained, with toil and fatigue, the airy point 
above. From this height he beheld Loch- 
Katharine one burnished sheet of living 


12 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


gold beneath himj with promontory, creek, 
bays, and islands, floating in purple light 
around. High, to the south, Benvenu threw 
its shadows along the borders of the lake. 
To the north the proud head of Ben-an 
heayed itself to mingle with the clouds. 
The stranger gazed from the steep promon- 
tory with rapture and amazement. What 
a scene is here,’^ he exclaimed, as he gazed 
around, “ for princely pomp, or church man’s 
pride: on this bold brow a lordly tower; 
on yonder meadow, far away, the turrets 
of a cloister ; and, in that soft vale, a lady’s 
bower. How blithely might sound the 
bugle along the lake; and how sweet at 
evening the lovers’ lute chime through the 
groves: and, when the midnight moon 
smiled upon the silver wave, how so- 
lemn the sound of the holy matin’s dis- 
tant hum upon the ear, at that lone, still 
hour. Blithe is the scene, and lovely the 
hour, but I fear the copse must give my 
evening fare, and some mossy bank must 
be my couch till morn. But hosts may in 
these wilds abound, which I had better 
miss than encounter. To meet highland 
plunderers were worse than the loss of steed, 
or deer. I am alone — my bugle may raise 
some of my train.” He placed his lips to 
his bugle, when, lo! at the sound, from un- 


SCOTl'tSH EXILES. 13 

derneath an aged oak, behind a sleep pro- 
montory, a little skiff shot to the bay, 
guided by a damsel. Just as the hunter 
left his stand, the boat struck the shore. 
He stood concealed amid the foliage to 
view this fairy of the lake. The maiden 
paused, as if again to catch the distant 
strain. Her head thrown up, with eye and 
ear attentive. Her locks flung back, lips 
apart, like a Grecian monument. She seem- 
ed to be the guardian Naiade of the strand. 
Never did Grecian chisel form so lovely a 
form or face. The sun, ^tis true, had tinged 
her cheek with his frown, but this slight 
tinge served only to contrast her bosom of 
snow. And, although no rule from court 
had trained her pace, a foot more light 
never dashed from the heath-flower the 
silvery dew. So light, so elastic was her 
step, that the slight hare-bell rose from her 
feet uncrushed. And, ^though the accents 
of the mountain hung upon her lips, those 
silver sounds, so soft, oft caused the listener 
to hold his breath that their music might 
not be lost. From her dress she seemed a 
chieftain’s daughter. Her satin snood, her 
silk plaid, and golden broach spake her 
birth. And seldom was seen such beauti- 
Ail, luxuriant ringlets of glossy black o’er 
the bosom of beauty as those which escaped 

B 


14 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


from her snood and played over her bosom 
of snow. Never was a plaid more tastefully 
thrown o’er so pure a breast, and never 
broach fastened above a heart more good 
and kind. These to know, was to gaze 
upon Ellen’s dark soft eye, which reflect- 
ed every movement of her guileless breast. 
One only passion, with virgin pride, lay 
concealed, and, it were needless to say that 
passion was love. Impatient of the silent 
horn, she gave her soft accents to the blast, 
and the dear name of ‘‘Father” echoed 
around. She paused, no answer came. 
Less loudly she called, “Malcolm, was 
thine the blast?” The echo around did not 
repeat the name, for it came in tremulous 
accents from her lips. Advancing from the 
hazel shade, the stranger stood before her. 
The maid, alarmed, pushed h^r light shal- 
lop from the shore, and more closely drew 
her plaid across her bosom. When safe, 
as she deemed, from shore, she paused, and 
gazed upon the stranger. His was not the 
form or eye to alarm the youthful maid. 
On his bold visage, middle age had slightly 
pressed its signet, but had not quenched 
his open truth : forward frolic and glee sat 
upon his countenance. A soul, daring, 
sparkled from his eye, where hasty love or 
head-long precipitancy lurked. His manly 


SCOl’TISn EXILES. 


15 


limbs were cast in manly mould, for con- 
test bold, or hardy sports. Though his 
dress was simple, and he stood weaponless, 
except his trusty blade; yet his stately 
mien told a high-born heart and martial 
pride. He spoke of his benighted road with 
gentle courtesy, ready flowing speech, but, 
at the same time, with gesture less used to 
sue than command. Ellen eyed him dur- 
ing this speech, and replied, The high- 
land halls are still open to the bewildered 
wanderer of these hills. Nor think, she 
said, as her skiff approached the shore, you 
come unexpected to yon lone isle, our de- 
sert home. This morning, before the heath 
had lost its dew, we pulled your couch; for 
you has the heathcock bled, and our broad 
nets have swept the mere, to furnish your 
supper.’^ ‘^Now, by the rood, my lovely 
maid, ’^returned the hunter, ‘^you have made 
some mistake. I have no right to claim 
this welcome of some other guest. I am a 
wanderer here, my way, my friends, my 
steed I have lost; and never before, lovely 
maid, have I encountered your mountains, 
till on this lake I found a fay in fairy-land.’’ 

I believe you,” said the maid, as a slight 
blush passed over her cheeks, believe 
yourfoothas nevertrod before Loch-Katha- 
rine’s shore. Old Allan-bane, a gray-haired 


16 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


sire, who looks into the future, saw your 
steed, a dappled gray.’’ The stranger look- 
ed upon the maid in silent astonishment, and 
she proceeded. He marked your hunting 
suit of Lincoln green, and this tassied horn, 
so gaily gilt, which now swings at your 
breast; thatfalchion’s crooked blade and hilt; 
that cap with herons’ plumes; and, yon dark 
grim hounds, (pointing as she spoke, to the 
hunter’s dogs, which lie stretched along 
the strand,) he bade us all be ready for 
the reception of some guest of high degree. 
But light I held the old man’s prophecy, 
and thought it was my father’s horn which 
rung upon the lake.” The hunter smiled. 
“ Since^to your home, I come a destined 
knight, announced by your prophet. I’ll 
lightly front all danger for one kind glance 
of those bright eyes. Permit me to guide 
your fairy frigate over the lake.” The 
maid, with a sly suppressed smile, watch- 
ed his endeavours to guide her skiiOf, as 
she marked the delicate whiteness of his 
hands, when he plyed the oar, guessed, this 
was the first time his hand had ever grasped 
one before. Yet, with strength he drew 
his strokes, and the shallop flew over the 
rippling bosom of the lake. The hounds 
plunged in the dark mirror, and soon 
reached the rocky isle, and moored their 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 17 

shallop on the beach. The eye of the 
hunter viewed the shore ; Twas all closely 
set round with copse-wood. No track or 
path-way was in view, nor had it the small- 
est appearance of ever being trod by a 
human foot, until the maiden sprung for- 
ward and pointed a road hid from the eye 
by the tangled screen of foliage. This 
wound through the copse-wood and opened 
upon a narrow green, surrounded on all 
sides by the birch and willow ; here 
stood the rustic bower of some chief for 
concealment and danger. It was an ample 
lodge, but strange and rude in its structure, 
composed of such materials as lie readiest 
to the w’orkman’s hand. Ash and oak logs 
Sfiuared with a hatchet, formed the walls, 
moss and leaves intermixed with clay 
stopped each crevice between these logs ; 
above slender rafters of pine, covered with 
lieathand rushes, formed the roof ; fronting 
the west, was a rural portico, whose pillars 
were the mountain fir with its bark strip- 
])ed off. Here the tasteful hand of Ellen 
had taught the ivy and idean vine the cli- 
mates, and every plant which could bear 
the sharp air of Loch-katrine to twine. Ellen 
stopped for an instant in this rustic porch, 
then gaily turning to the hunter, said. 
Call on Heaven and thy lady, and enter 

B 2 


18 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


this enchanted hall.’’ My hope, my Hea- 
ven and trust are all in you, my lovely 
guide; lead on, and I will follow,” answer- 
ed the hunter. She stepped lightly on, and 
he followed her steps, but -had scarcely 
crossed the threshold, when the loud clang 
of steel saluted his ear. He started, his 
countenance became pale as he laid his 
hand upon his blade, but blushed as Ellen 
turned and pointed smilingly to a naked 
blade, which had fallen from its sheath from 
across the antlers of a stag that graced 
the hall; he cast his eyes around the rude 
walls, and found them hung with trophies 
of the chase or fight. Here a target, bu- 
gle, battle-axe, and hunting-spear; there 
broad swords, bows and arrows, intermix- 
ed with the head of the wild boar, wolf 
- grinning as he fell; the wild cat’s brindle 
hide, the frontlet of the elk, and horns of 
the bison, otter, seal, and dear skins form- 
ed the rude tapestry which decorated the 
sylvan hall in which he stood. He gazed 
with wondering astonishment on what he 
saw; the naked blade which fell as he en- 
tered now caught his eye; he stooped, rais- 
ed, and wielded it; then intently fixing 
his eyes upon the workmanship,. said, “I 
never knew but one arm whose strength 
could sustain a blade like this, in the field 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


19 


of battle.’’ Ellen sighed, then smiled, 
‘‘you see (said she) the guardian champion’s 
sword, and it trembles as light in his hand 
as a hazel wand in mine; my sire’s tall 
form might grace Terragus or Ascabart: he 
is now absent^on the chase, and none but;wo- 
men and menials dwell within.” They sat 
down to rest themselves in this hall; and 
soon the mistress of the mansion entered 
with a graceful carriage and easy step; 
there was a stately air which might have 
graced a princely court as she entered. For 
her young Ellen felt all the tenderness of 
a mother. She received her guest with 
courteous hospitality. Though curious to 
know the rank of their guest, such was the 
reverence paid to strangers, that they 
might, even though the deadliest'foie in dis- 
guise, have joined their repast and slept 
beneath the roof of a Scottish chief, with- 
out being questioned as to his name or bu- 
siness; this being thought by them a devia- 
tion from that hospitality which marked 
the Scottish character. The hunter, curi- 
ous, and equally astonished at all he saw, 
announced himself as the “ knight of 
Snowdoun, James Fitz James, and lord of 
a barren heritage which his brave sires had 
held from age to age by their swords; his 
father had fallen in one of these skirmishes, 


20 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


and he was oft obliged to protect his own 
rights often by his trusty blade. “ This 
morning (addressing the elder lady with a 
grace befitting a king) with lord Moray^s 
train I followed the chase, but in vain, I 
outstripped my comrades, missed the deer, 
lost my matchless steed, and by a fairy was 
conducted here, and my astonishment is 
great to find among these sequestered 
shades, such looks, (turning to the blush- 
ing Ellen) such refinement of manners,” 
(bowing to the lady.) The ladies made no 
reply, but looked with difierent expression 
on each other. Dame Margaret (for such 
we call her) was grave, and Ellen smiled 
playful and arch as they met each other’s 
eye. Again Fitz James spoke: ‘^your looks 
bespeak you, madam, (addressing Dame 
Margaret) of courts, of cities, to be well 
acquainted; and you (turning with an arch 
smile to Ellen) are not the simple Sylvan 
maid j^ou would personate; that form, and 
face, with speech and gesture, bespeak you 
of some noble race.” Ellen, innocently gay, 
and wishing to evade his inquiries, said 
‘‘Weird women are we! who dwell far 
from tower or town. We stem the flood 
and ride the winds, and cast our spells over 
wandering knights (looking slyly at Fitz 
James as she spoke) and while Ariel spirits 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


21 


touch the string, our voices accompany 
their harps;” saying this, she began the 
following spontaneous song. 

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, 

While our slumberous spells assail ye, 

Dream not with the rising sun, 

Bugles shall sound revellie. 

Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying? 

Sleep ! nor dream of yonder glen. 

How thy gallant steed lay dying. 

Huntsman, rest! thy chase is done, &c. 

While she sweetly sung, the symphony 
was filled up between by an invisible harp. 
Her mellow notes and the soft cadence of her 
flowing song, fixed the admiring gaze of 
the stranger upon her seraphic face; Ellen 
saw his eyes fastened with the most im- 
passioned gaze upon her; she paused — then 
deeply blushing, led the way to the supper- 
room, which the stranger also found such 
as those through which he had passed ; the 
table was covered with game, fish, and such 
delicacies as their situation afibrded; soon 
after which, the hall of trophies was spread 
with mountain heather for his bed. But 
vainly did Fitz James endeavour to sleep, 
although the heath-flower of his couch shed 
fragrance around him; Ellen, the innocent, 
beautiful Ellen, had kindled a fever within 


22 SCOTTISH EXILES. 

his breast, which precluded sweet sleep 
from his eyes; and when near dawn, he 
sunk in a troubled slumber, the incidents 
and accidents of the chase sent forth heavy 
groans from his labouring breast; he turned 
upon his couch, and again was lost in 
feverish dreams. He walked with Ellen 
in a grove and disclosed the passion of his 
breast; she blushed, sighed, and in the 
warmth of his love, he sought to clasp her 
hand, when a cold gauntlet met his; Ellen 
had vanished, and in her place there stood 
a warrior, uponwhosehead a helmet shone; 
his size was gigantic, his visage dark, stern 
and fiery was the glance which shot from 
his threatening eyes; still this phantom 
bore the resemblance of Ellen. Fitz 
James awoke, panting with affright; the 
red embers, which were nearly decayed, 
cast a deep and dusky hue round the room, 
only half displaying the uncouth trophies 
which hung upon the walls. He arose 
and sought the air, the moon shone bright 
and pure, the light breeze was filled with 
the rich perfume of the wild rose, eglantine, 
and Scotch broom. The silver rays of 
light from the moon quivered upon the 
water. The scene calmed in some degree 
the breast of Fitz James, and as he walked 
along he mentally ejaculated “ why is it 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 23 

that in every thing, every object 1 see, I 
trace some resemblance to the exiled race 
of Douglas? This mountain maiden has 
the Douglas eye ? The sword within was 
only fit for the grasp of his hand? even my 
dreams are blended with his race.’’ He 
entered the hall, told his midnight orisons, 
with a prayer for every gold bead, con- 
signed himself to Heaven, and sunk into 
undisturbed repose. 

THE ISLAND. 

It was a lovely morning which broke 
upon the stranger as he stood upon the 
shore attended b^y old Alien-bane and El- 
len, awaiting the shallop which was to 
waft him on his way home. The old man sat 
upon a rock covered with wild lichens, 
and Ellen sat beside him. He touched the 
strings of his harp, and raising the tones of 
his voice, sung a farewell to the parting 
stranger, who stood in manly elegance 
with folded arms, his ear on the strain, but 
his eyes upon the interesting Ellen seated 
at the old minstrel’s side; the song died 
upon the lake, and the aged minstrel thus 
spoke. ‘‘Not faster than yonder rowers, 
who fling the spray from their oars, or 
yonder rippling waves which track the 


24 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


shallop’s course, and swell in the lake, is 
memory in erasing from the mind of man 
benefits of former days: but, [stranger, go, 
and Heaven protect thee. Think not 
again of this lonely isle. High is thy place 
at court, and high is thy place in the bat- 
tle’s field.” The stranger started and bit 
his lips, then turned a look of mingled sur- 
prise and astonishment upon the seer. Al- 
len continued, “ honoured may you be, 
true thy sword, thy friend sincere, thy la- 
dy constant and kind.” The shallop reach- 
ed the land, the stranger cast a lingering 
look upon the group before him. Reclin- 
ed’against a blighted tree, the harper was 
in deep meditation, his eyes were fixed 
upon Heaven, with a look of sparkling in- 
spiration ; his hand rested upon the strings 
of his harp, and so still was all around, that 
not a breeze lifted his hoary locks which 
flowed upon his shoulders. Ellen’s eyes 
were fixed upon a fleet of wild ducks which 
swam upon the lake, while her vexed 
spaniel from the beach bayed at the prize 
beyond his reach ; there was a blush upon 
her cheek, as the stranger pressed her 
hand in silence; the next moment a smile 
dimpled her cheek, as she returned a part- 
ing sign he made from the boat. Ellen 
watched him, as he, attended by a trusty 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


25 


guide, and dark hounds, slowly wound 
around the hill. But when his stately 
form was hid from her view, reflection as- 
sailed her breast, and she thus reproached 
herself. Thy Malcolm ! vain and foolish 
maid, would not have thus watched the steps 
of a parting fair, not thus fondly dwelt 
upon the smooth phrase of southern 
tongue.” Wake Allenbane (she cried to 
the harper) arouse from thy moody dream! 
and pour forth the praises of Malcolm.” 
Scarcely had these words left her lip, than 
her face was suffused with crimson. 

Malcolm Greame amid his clan, in hall, 
and bower, was the soul of all who knew 
him. The minstrel struck the strings of 
his harp three times, but the sounds died 
in melancholy strains beneath his touch. 
He clasped his withered hands, turned to 
the maiden and said. — ^‘Vainlj^, 0 noble 
lady, thou biddest me strike the strain; 
alas! a mightier hand than mine has tuned 
my harp, and spanned its strings; I touch 
the chords of joy, and lo ! it returns sounds 
of sorrow and mournful strains; perhaps it 
foretels its master’s fate ! but ah ! dear lady, 
it was thus it spoke on the eve your saint- 
ed mother died ; disobedient to my touch 
when in the halls of Bothwcll I essayed to 
bring forth songs of joy, it wailed as if for 
c 


26 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


the loss of friends; Hwas just before the Dou- 
glases were ruined and driven into exile. 
O ! Heaven avert from my master’s house 
any farther wo.” Soothingly Ellen an- 
swered. Assuage, my honoured friend, 
those fears ; all melodies which are played, 
are known to thee from Tweed to Spey. 
What can there be so strange in your 
touching melancholy strains, such as you 
once have struck, they are excited by con- 
fused memory. I marvel not that the war 
song, should mingle with the funeral. 
Here at least, we rest in safety. My sire, 
with noble virtue resigned lordship, lands, 
and high station, as resigned as yonder oak 
whose graceful foliage, though the storm 
may rend the noble trunk, bids defiance to 
those which blow. For me (she stooped 
and plucked a blue hare-bell which grew 
near her feet) whose memory scarce can 
trace those high and splendid honours 
which my father lost, this little flower, 
may well my simple emblem be; it drinks 
the dew of Heaven as blithe as the most 
splendid rose which can grace an empe- 
ror’s garden, and when I thus place it in 
my locks, Allen thou art bound to say you 
never saw a more graceful corone.t;” say- 
ing this, she playfully wreathed it with a 
fascinating smile, in her dark glossy tresses. 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


27 ' 


This smile and speech wiled for a moment 
the old harper’s melancholy; he cast upon 
the lovely innocent such a look as would 
have beamed from a hermit when an angel 
stooped to sooth his wo. He gazed till 
pride and fond regret caused the tear to 
stand in his aged eye, then thus replied. 
‘^Loveliest and best of thy sex! thou lit- 
tle knowest the rank and honour thou hast 
resigned, hast lost. 0 that I may be per- 
mitted to see thee grace the Scottish court, 
thy place by birth. Once to see thee the 
leading star of every eye, the theme of 
every minstrel’s power, fair lady of the 
Bleeding Heart.”* ‘‘These are only 
dreams, Allen, (returned the maid in care- 
less accent, yet she sighed) this mossy 
rock on which we sit is worth all the gay 
trappings which adorn the chair of state, 
or would my step spring more gay in the 
dance than o’er the romantic woods through 
which we often roam; neither could the 
royal minstrel give more pleasure to my ear, 
more joy to my heart than those notes from 
thy harp; and as for suitors proud and rich 
to bend before my sway, ah ! flattering 
bard, do you not know that grim Sir Ro- 
deric trembles before my conquering eye. 


The Douglas crest. 


28 SCOTTISH EXILES. V 

The Saxon’s scourge, the pride of Clan-Al- j 
pin, the terror of Loch Lomond is pros- I 
trateat my feet. The bard’s countenance '! 
changed at her light mood, and he an- 
swered in a solemn tone ‘‘Thou hast 
chosen a wrong theme for jest ; who but 1 
thyself ever named Black Sir Roderic and ; 
smiled; he who in Holy rood slew a knight ; 
these eyes saw him draw back his dirk, 
and even the proud courtiers gave place to 
the stride of this undaunted murderer. 
Since his out-law his hand has sternly kept 
his mountain patrimony. Ah ! wo the \ 
day in which the Douglas, like stricken 
deer, disowned and forgotten by every no- 
ble peer, should thus owe shelter and safe- 
ty to this marauding chief, who now looks 
for his reward in thy pure hand; and soon, 
maiden, may the dispensation from Rome 
be brought. And thy father, the Douglas, 
still be held in rev6rence and fear. But 
remember, (said he impressively, shaking 
his aged head with awful shudder) 0! lov- 
ed maid, although thou canst guide this 
rude chieftain with a silken thread, thy 
hand is on a lion’s mane.” “ Minstrel,” re- ; 
plied the maid as her father’s soul flashed 
from her dark eyes, “my debts to Rode- 
rick’s house, I fully understand; and to la- 
dy Margaret his mother, 1 also, but too 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 29 

well feel how much is due from me ; alas ! 
even all which I could pay to a mother’s 
care, for thou knowest that her sister’s 
child, has been cherished and protected 
with the fondest love; to her brave chief- 
tain son for his protection of my loved sire, 
I would give my life. But Allen : altho’ 
Sir Roderick may command my blood, my 
life, — yet shall he never possess this hand. 
Rather will Ellen Douglas reside a votaress 
in Maronna’s cell; rather in far distant 
realms beyond the sea, beg from place to 
place the cold world’s charity, an outcast 
far from the Douglas name, than wed the 
man she cannot love.” Thou shakest 
thy gray tresses,” (she said as she paused 
for the old man’s reply) what can this 
mean; perhaps thou thinkest I undervalue 
my cousin’s good qualities; no, Allen, I 
grant him brave, but impetuous as the bil- 
low which thunders o’er the craggy cliff; 
generous, unless he is inspired by ven- 
geance or jealousy : to his clan, to his fol- 
lowers, true as the sword to his unerring 
hand; but Oh ! that very blade should be 
taught more mercy to his foe : I grant him 
liberality, but it is to fling his wealth 
among his own clan : on those of his men 
who scour the glens and lowlands, who 
leave in place of some happy hamlet, a 
c2 


30 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


mass of ashes slaked with blood. (She 
shuddered for a moment, and then im- 
pressively said) his hand has fought for 
my kither, and I honour him as his daughter 
ought; but can I clasp it reeking with 
blood, from some poor peasant’s burning 
shed? No! his few virtues but show his 
dark passions in a more striking point of 
view; they flash upon my sight like light- 
ning o’er the midnight sky. Even while 
a child, 1 shuddered at his gloomy brow, 
his dark plaid and sable plumes, and now f 
cannot brook his haughty mien, and lordly 
air; and, Allen, if thou joinest thy looks to 
aid Black Sir Roderick’s suit, in any other 
than jest, anguish must thrill my oppress- 
ed heart; for if ever a Douglas knew fear,, 
’tis when I hear the name of that chief, or^ 
see his tall form before me. But let us 
change the discourse, I shudder with this. 
What dost thou think, Allen, of our hand- 
some, strange, guest.?’’ What think of 
him? (said the old man in solemn prophetic 
tone) wo is the day that brought him to 
our isle ! thy father’s battle brand has 
shown by falling from its scabbard, that the 
step of secret foe lurked nigh. Should that 
stranger prove a spy from court, what have 
we not to fear for the Douglas? what for 
this island, deemed the strongest hold of 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


31 


Clan Alpine? if neither spy or foe, still, 
\vh:<t wonhl Roderick’s jealous mood not 
say?” — Ellen waved her hand disdainfully. 

Ah!”continued the old bard, “remember, 
maiden what discord rose in his dark 
soul when at Beltaqe, you led the dance 
with the noble Malcolm Greame; although 
thy sire reconciled them, yet smoulders in 
Roderick’s breast thefude: beware! oh! be- 
ware!” he shook his aged locks as he spoke. 
“ But hark! what sounds are those which 
come upon the gale.” Attentively Ellen 
lent her ear and rose from her mossy seat; 
again the sound came faintly upon them 
as both bent eager to catch any sounds 
which were to be caught, “ ’tis, (said El- 
len, starting with pale affright) the bold 
Pibrocii from Roderick’s boat,” and she 
left the strand with light bounding step. 
Far up the lengthy lake was seen four dark 
specks slowly enlarging until they became 
masted barges; they bore down from Glen- 
gyle, they passed the point of Brianchoil, 
and as they approached the isle, the sun 
threw its broad rays full upon the banner 
of Sir Roderick; they advanced nearer to 
shore, spears, pikes and battle-axes, flasli- 
ed in the sun. Now the tartans, plaids, 
and plumes of Sir Roderick danced and 
moved to the breeze which dimpled the bo- 


32 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


som of the lake. And now as the rowers 
tugged at the oar, their bonnets sunk and 
rose to view ; the dull bag-pipe sounded in 
unison o’er the deep. At first the sounds 
by distance, were mellowed along the wa- 
ters, but as they drew near, they burst bold- 
ly on the ear, and the shrill clan’s gathering 
was distinctly heard. Such thrilling sounds 
that might once have called proud chief- 
tains to the fight. The war-pipes ceased; 
but lake and hill still prolonged the echo. 
Soon as these sounds were lost, a hundred 
clansmen raised their hoarse voices in 
their chieftain’s praise; while the rowers 
kept time to the measure with their oars. 

On landing, lady Margaret with all her 
joyful train of females, sought the strand 
where her son was moored. Their long 
tresses floated on the breeze, while their i 
snowy arms were thrown up in the air, as 
their soft voices echoed back the strain 
from Roderick’s barges. Lady Douglas, 
ever mindful that unless Ellen (the belov- 
ed of Roderick’s heart) was with the group, 
it would create disappointment and anger 
in her son’s breast; thus spake, come, El- 
len, why thus tardy, my love, to wreath a 
victor’s brow. Come and welcome the 
conqueror. Ellen slowly and reluctantly j 
followed the unwelcome sound of lady 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


33 


: Margaret, as thus with her eyes cast dow*n, 
she followed in steps of sadness the joy- 
ous band. The sound of a distant bugle 
struck upon her ear, she raised her droop- 
ing head, sprung from the path in which 
siie was walking, and said to the old harper 
who followed the train, ‘‘ list. Alien-bane, 
I hear the sounds of my father’s bugle from 
the main land, let us hasten to guide the 
skiflf to him, and bring him from the moun- 
tain.” Then, like a sun-beam swift and 
bright, she darted to her light shallop. The 
moment when Roderick scanned the fe- 
male group with eager eye, for her he most 
passionately loved, she had left the islet far 
behind, and moored her shallop in the bay. 

Douglas, upon her landing, closely 
clasped his lovely child with fondness to 
his noble heart, and the drops of paternal 
affection fell upon her dark tresses; yet was 
these tears which fell from the hero’s eyes 
so pure, that they could not have stained 
the cheek of an angel; it was a pious 
father’s joy shed upon the head of a dute- 
ous daughter. Ellen’s faltering tongue in 
thrilling accents gave her filial welcomes, 
nordid her affectionate fondness once let her 
mark that a youth was with her father until 
he named Malcolm Greame. Old Allen 
during the affectionate meeting of his mas- 


34 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


ter and lady, gazed with marked uneasi- 
ness, first upon Roderick landing on the op- 
posite isle, and then with tearful eye upon 
his master; till ashamed of his weakness, he 
dashed away with his hand the drops which 
had strayed down his furrowed cheek. 
Douglas shook his faithful old follower 
warmly by the hand, and turning to his 
young friend, laying his hand upon his 
shoulder, said in a kind, but subdued voice. 
Cannot thou, my young friend, discover 
no meaning in my poor harper^s eye?’^^ 
then alter a sigh so deep that it caused El- 
len to start from the deep contemplation 
which Malcolm’s presence had thrown her, 
he continued, I will tell thee; he recalls 
to memory the day when he sung my 
praise o’er the arched gate of Bothwell 
with other minstrels, when Percy’s Nor- 
man pennon won in the bloody field wav- 
ed before me, and twenty knights with 
rank as proud as yon chief can claim, to 
grace my pomp walked behind me; yet 
trust me, Malcolm, not half the pride rested 
in my heart altho’ the waned crescent con- 
fessed my power, and in my train followed 
knights and lords, while Blantyne hymned 
her holiest lays, and Bothwell’s bards rung 
forth my deeds, as this old man’s silent 
tear of welcome, and this poor maid’s fond 


SCOTl’ISH EXILES. 


35 


and affectionate caresses. Forgive me, my 
friend, for the emotion I have betrayed; 
but oh ! it out beggars all I have lost 
The maiden’s cheek was like a summer rose 
glittering with dew as this delightful praise 
fell from her father’s lips before Malcolm. 
To hide her shame and joy, she began 
caressing the whimpering hounds which 
crouched and fawned at her feet; whist- 
ling, the hawk flew to her hand, and 
closed his dark wing, tho’ unhooded, he 
sought not to leave her. Like the goddess 
of the wood, she appeared more beautiful 
in her partial father’s eye, than he had ever 
beheld her; her bright bewitching smile, 
her dark locks waving in the wind, her 
graceful form, the time, place, all seemed 
so well to correspond with the feelings of 
Douglas, that another and a succeeding 
tear fell from the eyes of Allen as he view- 
ed this lovely blossom doomed perhaps ‘to 
waste its sweetness on the desert air.’ And 
the fond enthusiast who stood gazing upon 
this lovely vision, sent with every glance 
his enraptured soul. Malcolm was of fine 
stature, his form slender; his limbs graceful 
in a superior degree; his eyes keen, pene- 
trating and sparkling, but soft and expres- 
sive when agitated by the softer passions; his 
hair was auburn, and this curled clos6 round 


36 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


his blue bonnet, from which danced to the 
winds a feather as light as his heart, until 
EUlen crossed his path; his belted plaid, 
and tartan hose, gaye additional interest to 
his whole appearance. Each pass by the 
mountain, lake, or heath, he knew; and 
vain was the bounding of the stag when 
Malcolm with his bow pursued him — , 

scarcely could his fast flying feet out-strip 
his pursuer. The steepest clifts of Ben- [ 
Lomond were scaled by him with scarce j 
a sigh from his breast to mark toil or fa- } 
tigue. He was lively, ardent, frank, and 
kind. His proud scorn of wrong; his zeal 
for truth; the boldness of his features, and 
flashing of his eyes; when kindled by tales 
of oppression, or renowned battles from j 
the old bards, all told that Malcolm would ■ 
rival and perhaps surpass, when to manhood I 
grown, Roderick Dhu’s renown in war. The I 
happy group entered Ellen’s shallop, and 
were soon upon the bosom of the lake. 
Hllen after some short conversation with 
Malcolm, turned fondly to her sire and 
said, 0, my father, why do you follow 
the chase so far ? and why return so late ? 
and why” — but the rest of her question 
died upon her lip, and a blush as she glanc- 
ed upon Malcolm, spread over her cheek; 
her father marked her confusion, and said. 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


37 


My child, I often follow the chase to a 
great distance; this is the only pastime I 
can enjoy with high relish, as it is mimicry 
of war; and this mockery is all I have left 
to enjoy. I met young Malcolm far east- 
ward in the wood of Glenfmlas. Here hun- 
ters and horsemen scoured the ground, and 
too late I found danger and peril beset my 
way. Malcolm, though still a royal ward, 
risked his life and lands to guard me 
through the passesof the wood,although pur- 
sued by my enemies; Roderick, in spite of 
his old spleen, for my sake shall give him 
friendly welcome, until morning, when he 
must seek Strath Endrick, and not thus 
again peril lands and life for me.^^ The 
sweetest feelings of love and gratitude 
beamed from the soft eyes of Ellen upon 
the noble youth, who stood silently gazing 
upon her lovely face, unconscious that 
Douglas spoke. On landing, they were 
met by Roderick; he reddened on behold- 
ing Malcolm, yet not in word or action was 
he wanting in hospitality. Talking of the 
chase, they proceeded to the Douglas’s rude 
bower, and in spojt and social converse 
passed the day. At night a courier arriv- 
ed, Roderick left the hall, and held secret 
parley with him for some hours. On re- 
turning, his dark aspect told that some 


38 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


evil news had been communicated to him. 
He cast his eyes upon the ground, as if in 
thought how to communicate something 
unpleasant, played with the hilt of his dag- 
ger, and at length raised his haughty brow 
and spoke. “ Time affords but little for 
speech, and my plain temper still less for 
glossy words;’’ then turning to Douglas, he 
said with a proud air, “ki nsman and (father) 
if you vouchsafe the fond name to me; my 
honoured mother; Ellen my fair cousin, 
and Sir Malcolm, in whom I perhaps shall 
soon find a noble friend, or bitter foe, when 
age shall put thee in possession of thy full 
power and command — Listen all, while I 
relate a sad and disagreeable piece of news ! 
The king’s proud vindictive mood, boasts 
that he has subdued the proud rebellious 
border-side. He says, that while in harm- 
less sport, he came with chiefs, hound, and 
hawk to rouse the game, he and his follow- 
ers were snared in bloody toils; and when 
they prepared to set down to their banquet, 
flinging wide their loyal portals. Loud cries 
their blood from Meggat’s, from Yarrow, 
the banks of Tweed, and from Teviofs 
side; the dales through which these mar- 
tial clans rode, are now one ruinous waste, 
one desolated mass of deserted land. This 
tyrant of the Scottish throne, so ruthless, 


SCOTTISH EXILES. S9 

SO faithless, now comes hither, with ihe 
same pretext, that of hunting. What safety 
for Iligliland chiefs do you think is left 
from this ruthless tyrant’s ambition. Your 
form in Glenfinlas has also been seen my no- 
ble kinsman, and in this strait I wish thy 
counsel.” Ellen and lady Margaret alarm- 
ed, sought comfort from each other, the one 
for her beloved father, and the other for her 
beloved son. The colour receded, then 
flushed upon the bold cheek of Malcolm, 
and a fearful glance at Ellen told he feared 
for her alone. While sorrowful, but not 
dismayed, Douglas spoke: “ Brave Rode- 
rick, the roaring of this tempest may pass 
you by, I will notlonger remaintodraw the 
lightning of thy sovereign upon thy head; 
thou knowest his vengeance is levelled at 
my devoted house. For thee, thou with 
thy gallant band, can aid thy sovereign; by 
submission and humbleness to his com- 
mands thou canst turn his wrath aside. 
Ellen and I, poor remnants of the^ ‘ Bleed- 
ing Heart,’ will seek refuge in some cavern 
of the forest, until this pursuit is over.” 

No, by my soul,” replied Sir Roderick, 
(his dark eyesflashing fire,) so help meHea- 
ven, never, never, while I can wield this 
blade. Blasted first shall be the pine of my 
father’s crest, if in the hour of danger it 
• Crest of the house of Douglas. 


40 


SCOTTISH EXILEtS. 


shall be parted from the Bleeding Heart.” 
Hear me, Douglas : grant me this lovely 
maid as a wife, join thyself with me, and 
when thus leagued to the DouglavS, friends 
and allies in flocks will resort to our stand. 
Doubt, distrust, and their wrongs, will bind 
us to the western chiefs. And when the loild 
pipe shall sound at my nuptials, the Links 
of Forth shall hear their knell; and the 
guards shall start in Stirling’s porch; and 
when I light my nuptial torch (he ener- 
getically said, savage fury glowing on his 
dark cheek and eyes) a thousand villages 
blazing in flames shall rouse the slumbers 
of our monarch James ! Nay Ellen (he 
continued, seeing her deadly pale) I mean 
not all my passion has prompted me to say; 
for once united with the sage Douglas, each 
mountain clan in friendly bands will guard 
the passes of their mountains, and the foil- 
ed king shall return from the pathless glen 
bootless and disappointed.” Ellen, dizzy, 
faint, and affrighted at this proposal from 
Sir Roderick, with quivering lip and fal- 
tering step, tried to raise herself from her 
seat, wildly determined to sacrifice herself 
for her father’s safety. Malcolm seeing 
the determination in her eyes, hastily 
arose to speak, but Lord Douglas prevent- 
ed him. He had marked the struggle in 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 41 

his beloved child’s heart, saw the hectic 
colour of her cheek, and on her attempt to 
speak, the ashy hue which overspread her 
beautiful face. ‘‘Enough Roderick, enough! 
(he quickly cried) my daughter cannot be 
thine, not that she loves another, hut that 
deathly paleness, that deep blush, all tell 
to a father’s heart that his child’s happi- 
ness would receive its death blow. — For- 
give her, chief — hazard not thy safety in 
our cause. Against my sovereign I will 
never raise a rebellious spear; I taught his 
youthful hand to rein his steed, to wield 
his brand ! not Ellen more my pride and 
love than was the princely boy ! I still love 
him, yes, in spite of my wrongs, caused 
by his hasty wrath and my enemies’ slan- 
derous tongues. 0 ! Roderick, seek thy 
sovereign’s pardon for thyself, and leave the 
Douglas to his fate.” Twice through the hall 
the chieftain strode unmindful of the latter 
part of Douglas’s speech. The waving of 
his broad tartans, his dark brow, and the 
wounded pride and disappointment which 
sat upon his knit brow, and flashed from 
his eye, gave him the appearance of the 
demon of night, stooping his pinions upon 
the path of some benighted pilgrim: the 
dart of unrequited love, panged deep in 
his heart, and Roderick, stung with the 

D 2 


42 SCOTTISH EXILES. j 

deepest anguish, walked to the Douglas, ^ 
wrung his hand, while tears rolled fast over 
“his burning cheeks, and each deep drawn 
sob was echoed through the hall, so still 
was the silence around. The sorrow of 
lady Margaret and the despair of Roderick 
were too much for the gentle, tender El- i 
len; she arose, and was about to approach ^ 
her father and cousin; Sir Malcolm, who 
viewed her with deep attention, sprung ^ 
after and took her hand. Roderick, who 
observed him, broke from Douglas, with 
flashing eyes, and crimsoned cheeks, of 
jealousy and deep despair; he seized Mai- I 
colm with a convulsive grasp, and sternly [ 
said, back, beardless boy! back, minion ! f 
hast thou so soon forgot the lesson I so 
lately taught thee? This roof, Douglas !, 
and Ellen, ^ou may thank for my clemen- j' 
cy to you.’’ Eager as the grey-hound on | 
the game, sprung Malcolm fiercely upon 
Roderick; “ Pepsh my name, (he said) if } 
aught but thy sword can buy thy safety !” 
Thus desperately they strove with brand ■ 
and dagger, and soon the death of one or ^ 
both must have terminated the hot contest, ■ 
had not Douglas thrust his giant strength 
between the. struggling foes : “ Chieftains, J 
(he said with sorrowful tone)fbrbear ! He, | 
who strikes another stroke, I hold my bit- ■; 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


43 


ter foe. Madmen, why this frantic con- 
duct ! is the Douglas fallen indeed so low, 
that his daughter’s hand is deemed the spoil 
of such dishonourable strife!” Sullenly they 
desisted, shame visible upon each counte- 
nance, but with foot advanced and unsheath- 
ed swords, they cast upon each other looks 
of bold defiance^ During the short, hot con- 
test, lady Margaret had several times grasp- 
ed the mantle of her son, and the half 
wild frantic scream of his Ellen had reach- 
ed the ears of Malcolm. As Roderick 
plunged his sword in its sheath, he said in 
a scornful tone to Malcolm, Rest safe un- 
til morning; it would be a pity to expose 
such a cheek to the midnight winds! then 
haste to James, and tell /i/m Roderick Dhu 
will keep the lake and isle, nor will he 
barter his freedom for the pomp or pagean- 
try of earthly man; if he wishes to know 
more thou canst show our strength, our 
secret passes*;” Then apprpachingthe door, 
he loudly called his henchman; Ho ! 
Malise, give our safe-conduct to Sir Mal- 
colm Greame.’^ Malise bent his head in 
submission to his lord. Calmly^ yet with 
boldness, young Malcolm answered, as he 
cast a look of scorn and contempt upon 
Roderick, “Fear nothing for thy secret 
pass, thy deep retreat. This spot, which is 


44 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


graced by an angel, must be blest and sa- 
cred to me, tho’ robbers haunt it; keep ihy 
churlish courtesy for those who need it; 
the mountain path is as safe for me at mid- 
night as in the blaze of day. Yes, even if 
Roderick Dhu with his boldest men beset 
my track.’’ He paused; then turning to 
Douglas and Ellen, said with softened voice. 
Brave Douglas— -lovely Ellen — I will not 
speak as if we parted for length of time; 
earth does not hold a spot so secret, so 
guarded, but we shall meet again. Chief- 
tain! we shall find an hour to meet again.” 
On pronouncing the sentence to Roderick, 
who stood boiling with smothered rage, he 
left the sylvan bower. Old Allen follow- 
ed him to the strand by Roderick’s order. 
The old man informed Malcolm that Rode- 
rick had sworn the red cross should be 
sent on the morning, wide through dale, 
valley, and moor, to call together his fol- 
lowers. ft is best and safest to land,” con- 
tinued the old man, far up the lake, lest 
these men who attend the signal of the 
Fiery Cross, should cross thy path; I will 
row thee to the opposite strand.” This 
counsel from old Allen was lost upon the 
wind. Malcolm was busily employed in 
binding his ample plaid tight round his 
dirk, pouch, and broad-sword, stripping 


SCOTTISH EXILKS. 


45 


his limbs of such of his clothes as might 
impede his way; he turned abruptly round 
and said as he kindly pressed the old min- 
strel’s hand, ‘‘ Farewell, thou pattern of old 
fidelity, oh ! that I had a place of rest I 
could claim my own; not thus like a hunt- 
ed stag in mountain cell should the honour- 
ed, loved Douglas and his angel daughter 
live, nor had yon proud- swelled robber 
dare — but in ward my sovereign holds my 
land, and my uncle leads my vassals to 
tame the Douglas’ foes; to aid his honoured 
friend, Malcolm has but his blade and 
heart. Yet, (and the thought flushed his 
cheeks and sparkled in his eyes as he spoke) 
yet, if there be faith in Malcolm, not long 
shall Douglas thus remain. Tell proud 
Sir Roderick Dhu I owe him not the small 
service of his boat to cross to yonder 
mountain.” He then plunged into the 
foaming tide, and stoutly buffeted the 
waves; old Allen’s eyes were strained with 
anxious gaze to view him in the midst of 
the lake. The silver light of the moon 
gave him to the old man’s view skimming 
like a cormorant over the waves. On land- 
ing in the dell, he shouted loud to tell of 
his safety, the minstrel heard it with joy, 
and then withdrew from the strand. 


46 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


THE GATHERING. 

The dawn of the next day saw Roderick 
pacing the strand with his broad-sword in 
his hand. No hope, no peace remained to 
assuage the dark storm of his troubled 
breast; in vain the lovely dawning of a 
summer’s day reflected a thousand hues 
along the still mountain, and changed the 
purple of the lake to liquid blue. Mildly 
the breeze just kissed the lake, which 
like a coy maid trembled and dimpled. 
The water lily opened her bright silver 
chalice to the light; the lawn appeared 
gemmed with glittering dew; and as the 
gray mist left the mountain’s brow, the 
torrent showed its glistening head. The 
lark, blackbird, thrush and dove, united 
their notes in harmony with the scene: un- 
marked, unnoticed, was the soft scene to 
dark Sir Roderick, until a ray from the 
rising sun flashed upon his blade; he start- 
ed with surprise. Beneath a rock his vassals 
had prepared the ritual, with deep and 
deathful meaning before the fiery cross 
could be sent its rounds. The shrinking 
band stood aghast at the impatient look 
their chief cast upon the pile and ceremo- 
ny which was passing before them. A 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


47 


heap of withered boughs of juniper and 
rowan, mingled with shivered oak rent by 
lightning, was formed in a pile. By this a 
seer stood bare-footed; his grizzled beard 
and matted hair, his visage dark and ob- 
scure, the image of despair. His naked 
arms and legs seamed with scars from ri- 
gorous penance, struck horror to the hearts 
of his beholders. He was a seer of sa- * 
vage form and face; not like a Christian 
prophet did he stand, but more like that of a 
druid released from his grave. Brian’s 
hardened heart and eye could view a hu- 
man sacrifice unmoved; it was said by all 
around that mixing curses with his predic- 
tion, as he muttered his prophecy, only be- 
came more deadly. No peasant sought this 
I seers’s abode. The huntsman knew his 
bound while following the chase, and never 
strayed where he could interrupt the me- 
iditations of Brian; and if by chance he was 
met by any borderer, the cross was signed 
lin terror upon the straggler’s breast, with 
a mixture of horror, devotion, and super- 
stitious dread ; Brian from his infant years 
was a morose, sullen bo}", an orphan, whose 
mother died on the hour of his birth; of his 
father, strange and dreadful tales were told. 
He bore the taunts of his play-fellows with 
calmness, and would spend whole nights 


48 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


by moonlight in weeping his sad destiny, 
and in superstitious search for his phantom 
sire, who was reputed some dreadful spi- 
rit. In vain when arrived at manhood he 
sought the cloister to hide and sooth his 
frantic woes ; vain was his deep research 
in the lettered volumes, even this consola- 
tion w'as denied his fevered mind. Eagerly 
he dived in the pages of magic, with every - 
dark pursuit attached thereto; his birth or 
sire he could not learn. At length, with 
maddened brain and gloomy mind, he 
sought the den of Ben-harrow, far from 
man, dwelling with mystic horror gained 
from his books of magic; his brain filled 
with wild visions, such as might suit the 
son of a spectre among the dark cliffs, he 
watched the torrents as they rushed over ,• 
the cliffs and boiled in dark eddies below. ,1 
The fearful dreams, dark visions, and shrill i 
scream of the Ben-Shie, roused him from J 
his dark melancholy; it told to his visioned ■ 
mind the fall of the Alpine line, for whom jr 
he felt some regard; and girding his loins L 
with mystic belt, he now came prompt to I 
tell these signals of wo, and bless or curse, I 
as his chieftain should direct. The pile y 
being prepared for this purpose, a goat was j 
taken from the rock, laid before the pile, h. 
and pierced with Roderick’s blade. The Jk 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


49 


life-blood ran in crimson tide over the 
shaggy limbs of the victim, -till darkness 
glazed his eye- balls. The seer with low 
murmuringprayer framed a slender symbol, 
the shaft and limb were formed of yew, 
which had once waved over Clan Alpine’s 
grave. This symbol, when finished, he held 
on high with a withered, trembling hand 
and haggard look, and strange and awful 
words thus spoke: ‘‘Wo to the clansman 
who shall see this symbol of sepulchral 
yew, and forget that it grew on holy 
ground; on Alpine’s burial ground; should 
he desert his trust and his chieftain in 
this hour of danger, he shall never mingle 
his dust with his chief; shall be thrust for- 
ever from sire, from kinsman, and cursed 
by all his clansmen, we doom him to wo, 
wo, wo.” He ceased until the clansmen 
assembled round the pile, repeated the last 
words with fiery looks, high shaking their 
naked blades upon their targets, they 
hoarsely sung, “wo to the traitor, wo!” As 
soon* as the shout was hushed upon the 
lake, the seer resumed his dark spell, 
scathing the symbol he held in the flame 
before him, shook the blazing points on 
high, and spoke again, “ wo to the wretch, 
who shall refuse to lift his spear in this 
cause, for as the flames have scorched thi« 

E 


50 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


symbol, so shall they be kindled in vo- 
lumes over the roof of his dwelling; maids 
and matrons shall call for vengeance and 
wo upon his cowardly head.” Here he 
ceased again, and the strain was shrilly 
echoed by female tongues denouncing mi- 
sery and stammering curses, ‘‘sunk be his 
home in embers red, and cursed be the 
house that shall hide the traitor’s houseless 
head.” A long deep pause ensued, the 
seer drew hard his labouring breath, 
while with clenched hand and set teeth, 
and eyes which glowed like burning coals, 
he meditated a curse more deadly than 
those already pronounced upon the clans- 
men of Roderick. He quenched the blaze 
from the points of the symbol w^hich he held 
in the bubbling blood, and again hollow 
and hoarse his prophetic voice was heard : 
“ When this signal passes through the land 
by which Vich-Alpine summons his vas- 
sals, burst be the ear which refuses to hear 
the summons ! palsied the foot^which re- 
fuses to speed it, and may ravens tear out 
the eye which refuses to see it, and wolves 
make the coward heart their prize ! As 
sinks his blood into earth so may his 
heart’s-blood hiss and die with the embers 
of his dwelling:” he ceased, no echo gave 
back the last amen, horror froze the blood 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


51 


of those who attended the rite. Roderick 
took with impatience the symbol from 
Brian’s hand, and turning to his henchman, 
a brave youth, said, « Speed, Malise, speed! 
with this signal; the muster place is Lan- 
ric-mead — let them assemble instantly. 
Speed, Malise, speed !” Malise flew to a 
barge, jumped on board, and was soon 
across Lock-Katrine; and while near eigh- 
teen feet from the strand, he lightly bound- 
ed upon the other shore, and soon he scal- 
ed the highest hills, sprung across the bogs 
and false morass, up steep crags, deep ri- 
vers, which, although nearly fainting, with 
thirst, he darted on herald of battle, and 
sorrow. Fast as the bloody symbol 
flies, all flew to arms, and from glen and 
upland the hardy tenants obeyed the dread- 
ful signal. Nor did the messenger slack 
his pace, but showed the sign and named 
the rendezvous; then swift as an arrow 
sped him on. The fisherman forsook his 
nets, the smith followed with dirks and 
brand; the blithe mower left his scythe in 
the half cut grain, herds strayed free from 
their keepers, and the plough was left 
standing in the furrow, and each and every 
person, from the stripling to the aged man, 
rushed in tumult to arms. Malise had 
cleared the lake, when the huts of Dun- 


52 


SCOTTISH EXILES* 


craggan appeared to his eye. Here the 
signal must be left and sent on by some 
swift runner. On coming near the dwelling 
of Duncan, the funeral coronach came up- 
on his ear in mournful accents. The va- 
liant warrior is no more, and who now shall 
fill the place of Duncan at Roderick’s side, 
for cold he lies upon his lowly bier, sur- 
rounded by his weeping sons and distract- 
ed widow. In this sad hour one bitter pang 
more is added to the already broken heart 
of those assembled round the bier. Ma- 
lise burst into the hall of sorrow, regardless 
of the occasion; in his hand he held the 
sign besmeared with blood, and spoke to 
those who stood aghast looking upon tha 
dreadful signal. The muster place is 
Lanric-mead, speed with the signal, clans- 
man.” Angus, Duncan’s heir, sprung 
forth and seized the symbol in haste, put on 
his father’s dirk and broad-sword : but 
when he observed the speechless agony of 
his mother, he rushed into her extended 
arms, kissed her cheek, cast a look upon 
the bier, dashed the tear from his eye, 
breathed one labouring sigh, then tossed his 
bonnet on his head and sprung like an ar- 
row over the moor. The widow’s tear 
was suspended as long as she could see or 
hear the footsteps of Angus; when he was 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


55 


lost to hereye, she turned to Malise, whose 
’eyes were wet with sympathy, and said, 
“Kinsman, his race is run who should have 
sped on thine errand; yes, the oak has 
fallen, and we have but that sapling to 
shelter the Duncraggan now. Oh! may 
the orphan’s God guard my boy. Haste, 
Malise, with your blade to the field and 
guard his young head, let the woman alone 
lament over Duncan’s bier. In a moment 
the weapon’s clang resounded through the 
hall of death; those who were assembled, 
snatched sword and target with hurried 
hands from the w^all, and energy beamed 
for a moment from the mourner’s sunken 
eyes; during this scene at his home, young 
Angus over dale and hill with the signal of 
fire, with unabated speed stopped not to 
dry the tear upon his cheek. At the 
stream of Teith he saw the chapel of St. 
Bride, the stream was much swoln, and 
the bridge far from the place he stood; one 
moment he plunged into the dark wave, 
and holding the symbol high, made for the 
shore, the foam splashed high, the stream 
become more rapid, but Angus only held 
the sign in firmer grasp and soon gained 
the opposite bank, then pursued the path 
which led to the chapel; at the gate Angus 
with his bloody symbol met a bridal train. 

£ 2 


S4 SCOTTISH EXILHS. 

The beauteous Mary of Tombes, had 
plighted her faith to Norman, the heir of 
Ardmandave, minstrels followed in the gay 
train and vied with each other in praise of 
the bridal pair. The lovely bride had her 
eyes cast upon the ground and a tear stood 
upon her bright cheek like the dew upon a 
rose. Thegallantbridegroom walked by her 
side and viewed her with a victor’s pride. 
But alas! this day of joy is to be exchang- 
ed for one of wo. The messenger of fear 
and fate comes forward in haste, his ac- 
cents are hurried, the tear of grief swim- 
ming in his eyes; all dripping from the re- 
cent flood, panting and soiled with dirt he 
stood before them, and holding forth the 
symbol, thus spoke: The mustering place 
is Lanric-mead, speed forth the signal, 
Norman!” Alas, and must he so soon 
change the hand just linked to his for the 
symbol and sword, the day which rose so 
blightly, and promised so much felicity, 
must it sit in sorrow ! 0 fatal doom ! it 
must, it must; and Norman must obey the 
chieftain’s summons, it brooks no delay. 
Slowly he laid aside his plaid, and gazed 
upon his lovely bride with the deepest an- 
guish. He saw the tear gather in her lovely 
eye, but he had no word of comfort to sooth 
her wo; not trusting another glance, he 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


55 


sprung up the brook with the fiery messen- 
ger in his hand, nor dared he cast one 
look behind until he reached the Firth. 
Then came the torturing train of memory, 
all the visions of that eventful morn ; then 
came the manly thirst for fame and zeal for 
his chieftain’s cause ; with the soothing 
hope of soon returning with war’s red 
honours on his crest, to clasp his dearest 
Mary. Stung and elated by turns, he flew 
over bank and brae like fire from a flint. 
Soon over the heaths the voice of w’ar was 
spread, the signal had roused all who might 
claim a portion in Clan Alpine’s name, from 
the gray headed sire to the raw boy, whose 
bow was scarcely heeded by the crow. 
Every glen and valley mustered its little 
horde of men, they met like torrents,' and 
gathered as they poured, until they arrived 
at their rendezvous, where they formed hun- 
dreds, prompt for the fight, trained as they 
were to arms from their infancy, owing no 
tie but to Sir Roderick, no oath, no law, 
to any but him, their chief. 

It was a summer morn when Roderick 
Dhu surveyed the skirts of Ben-venue, and 
sent his scouts over the heath and hill to 
view the frontiers of Monteith. They re- 
turned with tidings of peace, no horsemen 
were visible, no banner waved, on Car- 


56 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


dross gate, no beacon shone upon Duch- 
ray’s towers, all seemed at peace. Before 
Roderick went to the place of muster, he 
examined with anxious scrutinizing eye the 
western frontier, for Douglas, true to his 
word, with Ellen had that morning with- 
drawn to a deep sequestered dell in Ben- 
venue’s dark clefts, which the supersti- 
tious called the Goblin cave. It was a wild 
and strange retreat. From the wild sum- 
mit of Benvenue, appeared many dark 
rocks piled in wild ruins, which hung 
over and formed the grotto or cove. The 
oak and birch threw a twilight round even 
at noon, no sound disturbed the silence of 
this sequestered spot, except the tinkling 
of a fountain rill; high rocks seemed sus- 
pended and nodding over the grotto, at the 
foot of which the lake broke in hoarse and 
hollow sound. This cavern, only fit for 
the wild wolf to rear her young, sheltered 
the aged head of the Douglas and his love- 
ly Ellen. 'Superstition drove all prying 
eyes far from the spot, for here ’tw’as said 
(by the vulgar) Fays and Satyrs held their 
sylvan court. The western shadows of 
evening floated upon lake Katrine bright 
and strong, when Roderick with a chosen 
few, repassed the heights above the Gob- 
lin cave. His retainers went on before to 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


57 


launch the shallop; his way lie across Loch 
Katrine, he went to view the passes of 
Achray, and place his clansmen on their 
posts. He came alone, except a small 
page who bore his sword, charging his men 
to await his coming on the lake. He lin- 
gered behind and cast a proud look upon 
his men as they receded from his view. 
Each warrior was a chosen man, and this 
might have been known by their proud 
step and martial air. Their feathers danc- 
ed and tartans floated in the air; the setting 
sun gleamed bright upon their targets as 
they stood upon the strand. Roderick still 
lingered on the craggy hill after the depar- 
ture of his train; near the place on which 
he stood, was the road which led to the 
Douglas’ obscure, wild abode, and Ellen, 
she, whom but that very morn he had 
proudly sworn to forget in the battle’s wild 
roar. But vain is the task, the firm resolve 
to conquer love, sooner shall the stream be 
stemmed with sand, or the fire-brand by 
bands of flax. Like a restless ghost he 
hovered near the spot of his lost treasure. 
His haughty heart could not brook an in- 
terview with her who had rejected his 
morning’s suit; still restless, and deeply 
adoring his lovely cousin, he lingered to 
catch some accents of her soft voice, and 


58 SCOTTISH EXILES; 

inly did he curse the breeze which rustled 
in the leaves around him. Soon, however, 
a soft strain came to his ear, and breathless 
he listened to the heavenly voice of Ellen 
as accompanied by Alien-bane’s harp. She 
sung in melting tones the hymn to the vir- 
gin; as the last note died upon the strings, 
Roderick, who stood leaning upon his hea- 
vy sword, unmoved in attitude or limb, 
gave a deep drawn sigh. The page, who 
rested near him, pointed with humble sign 
to the declining sun. He understood the 
motion, drew his plaid around him, and in 
sorrowful tone exclaimed, It is the last 
time — ’tis the last,” these words were re- 
peated the last time that angel voice shall 
fall again on Roderick’s ear.” This sad 
thought smote upon his heart. He strode 
hastily down the mountain, sullenly flung 
himself into a boat, which instantly shot 
across the lake and landed in the bay. 
Night saw his arrival on Lanric’s height, 
and in the midst of his men who were en- 
camped in the vale below. The appearance 
of his men arrested his step for a few mo- 
ments, and he stood to view the various 
scenes which they formed; some sat, some 
stood; and some slowly strayed around, 
but the greater number folded in their man- 
tles, lie upon the ground asleep among the 


SeJOTTISH EXILES. 


59 


deep heather, which in colour matched 
their tartans and made them completely in- 
visible, except here and there aiAsword or 
lance, which glimmered through the hea- 
ther like a glow-worm twinkling in the 
shade. When their chief was discovered 
by them, slowly descending, his eagle 
plume nodding to the breeze as he strode, 
their shout of welcome, shrill and loud, 
shook the mountain, arose thrice, returned 
by lake and vale, and again all was wrapt 
in silence. 


PROPHECY. 

One solitary sentinel stood on the pass 
between the lake and wood. It was young 
Norman, heir of Ardmandave, the young 
bridegioom; the morn had just dawned, 
and as he gathered a wild rose, and placed 
it in his bonnet, half sung, half muttered 
the following. 

The rose is fairest when ’tis budding new, 

** And hope is brightest when it dawns from 
fears, 

“ The rose is sweetest washed with morning 
dew. 

And love is loveliest when embalmed in 
tears. 


60 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


From this small indulgence he was rais- 
ed by a footstep upon the rock; in an in- 
stant he sprung to his arms, which lay be- 
side him. Stand, (he exclaimed) or thou 
diest.’^ Malise, the henchman, who had 
returned from the braes of Doune, where 
he had gone as a scout, on delivering the 
fiery symbol to be sped on. ^^Thou hast 
made good speed, said Norman, (as he 
recognised the voice of Malise,) what 
tidings of the foe.^’ ‘‘Where sleeps our 
chief, returned Malise, answering his ob- 
servation by a question. “ Apart from his 
men, in yonder misty glade, I will guide 
you to his couch,” he shook a slumberer 
who was near him and stirred him with his 
bow. “ Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse, and 
keep eagle watch until my return, we go 
to the chieftain.” Together up the pass 
they hied. “ What of the foeman,” said 
Norman, ashe w’alkedalong; “Varying re- 
ports: — ’tis certain, however, that a band 
for war has been ready for two days to 
march from Doun at a moment’s notice; 
King James holds his revels at Stirling; 
and soon will this dark gathering cloud 
burst in all the thunder of war upon our 
glens. Inured to hardship, the warriors 
may bear it out; but, Norman, how shall 
thou provide shelter for thy bonny bride?” 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


61 


“Do you not know that Roderick has pro- 
vided a place of shelter for our matrons, 
maids, children, and aged men who are un- 
fit for arms in the isle, where he has com- 
manded that no boat, skiflf or barge, shall 
float upon the lake, that these dear pledges 
may rest in security?^^ — “ This is well (re- 
turned Malise) and bespeaks the chieftain 
the father of his clan. But why sleeps Sir 
RoderickDhu apart from all his followers?’’ 
‘^Last evening (returned Norman) Brian 
tried an augury of that horrid kind which 
is never resorted to unless in great extre- 
mity, called the “ Taighairm,” by which 
it is said our sires have foresaw the events 
of war; for this rite has Duncraggen’s milk 
white bull been slain: his reeking hide they 
stretched beside the cataract, whose wild 
foam down the bleak craggy side of that 
huge cliff called the ‘ Hero’s Targe.’ Couch- 
ed upon a shelve beneath the brink of this 
cliff*, close where the thundering torrents 
sink, rocking beneath their roar, and 
sprinkled with incessant spray, the chief- 
tain sleeps, in wait of some prophetic 
dream, amidst this roar of water. — But 
soft ! see gliding through the bushes Brian 
the seer, and now he stands upon yon 
rock to view our slumbering bands. Does 
he not appear, Malise, to thy eye as a ghost 


62 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


that hovers over a slaughtered army, or 
raven on a blasted oak, watching while the 
deer is slaughtered?’^ ‘‘ Peace; thy words 
to other might be evil Augury; I believe 
Sir Roderick’s blade with this omen, comes 
not from heaven or hell, which yon fiend 
begotten seer can tell. But see our, chief 
comes forth and joins him, and now toge- 
ther they descend.” Roderick and Brian 
came slowly on, and the following conver- 
sation passed as they walked; Rorlerick, 
(said the hermit seer) it is a fearful strife, 
it is hard to unfurl the curtain of another 
world, to witness every quaking limb; my 
pulse sunk, my eye-balls dim, and my soul 
harrowed and torn by anguish; yet, this for 
my chieftain have I undergone. The shapes 
which sought my couch — no mortal man, 
save he who is gifted beyond nature’s law, 
could ever have survived to say what he 
had seen. The fatal answer came in burn- 
ing characters of fire, not spoken or writ- 
ten, but branded upon my very soul; these 
were the words: ‘’The party which shall 
spill the first foeman’s blood shall conquer 
in the strife.” I thank thee, Brian, for thy 
zeal, thy augury is good. Never stood 
Clan Alpine in battle, but our swords were 
first to taste the blood of our foes. A bet- 
ter, and more auspicious blow shall be ours. 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


63 


A spy has sought ourland this morning, nor 
shall evening see his return home ! My fol- 
lowers guard with strict vigilance every 
pass, from east to west. Red Murdoch is 
bribed to be his guide. I have charged him 
when he gave the information, to lead him 
astray, when in some deep path it will go 
hard if we cannot find one to bring him 
down. But see, Malise comes:” as he 
spoke the last words, Malise approached. 
“ What tidings of the foe?” ‘‘ Two barons 
wave their proud banners at Doun. I saw 
the silver star of Moray, and marked the sa- 
ble of Mar.” ‘‘ High tidings are these, I. 
love to hear of noble brave foes. When 
do they move on?” “To-morrow noon 
will see them here for battle.” “ And then 
shall they see a stern meeting ! But what 
place hold they their meetings? What of 
the friendly clans of Earn? Strengthened 
by them, the victory would be on Ben- 
ledi’s side.” “ I hear nought of that clan.” 
‘‘Well ! Clan Alpine’s men shall fight on 
Trosach’s glen; we will fight within Loch- 
Katrine’s, in sight of our maidsand matrons. 
Each for his hearth and household, father 
for son, and son for sire, lover for maiden 
beloved!” Here he paused, and threw a 
tear from his cheek, and continued; “what 
ails my eyes, is it the rough breeze which 


64 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


thus affects them — or some ill-omened tear 
a messenger of ill to us! “No!” (he exclaim- 
ed, clenching his hands) sooner may the 
Saxon lance unfix Benledi from its base, 
than doubt or terror pierce the unyielding 
heart of Roderick Dhu; it is stubborn as 
his trusty sword. Away to thy posts, — all 
know their charge.” The pibroch sound- 
ed as the bands advanced, and their broad- 
swords shone in the sun’s bright ray, 
while the floating banners stream upon the 
gale as obedient to their chieftain’s order, 
each sought their allotted post. The morn 
on which Sir Roderick assembled his 
troops, Ellen alone with Alien-bane was left 
by her father, who had quitted their lone 
retreat in quest of a place of more safety 
from the impending war, for himself and 
child. Vain had been every attempt of 
the old bard to cheer the sorrow of the 
once lighthearted Ellen, she sat beside him 
on a gray stone near the cave, tears stream- 
ing over her lovely pale cheeks, broken by 
sobs of “ Oh! Allen, I shall never see him 
more.” Be comforted, dear young lady, 
he will return, believe me — with joy — he 
must, he will return; it was time he should 
seek afar some secure shelter from the 
troubles which now threaten this once 
peaceful isle. Even Clan Alpine’s sons are 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 65 

cowed by the approach of their swarming 
foes. I saw their boats yesternight, the 
lights were numberless and flashed like the 
red streamers of the north; I saw them 
moored by the island, like wild ducks 
couching in the fen; is it not then time that 
thy noble father should prepare some safe 
retreat for thee?” “ No, Allen, (replied the 
weeping maiden) no pretext so kind car- 
ries my father hence. The tender, grave, 
parting blessing which he gave, the tear 
which stood in his aged eye, discovered to 
me his fixed, high purpose. Although my 
heart is feminine and weak, still I see his 
purpose : he hears and sees the battle’s 
strife, and thinks, or knows himself the 
cause of all this bloodshed. I saw him 
redden when thou, Allen, sung of Mal- 
colm being bound in fetters, which thy 
song said, I forged; he became apprehen- 
sive of fetters of heavier cast for the kind 
youth who periled his life to rescue him on 
the morn of the chase, when the stranger 
came to our isle. For Roderick’s too, that 
firm and faithful friend, so true in danger 
and to our cause. Say,minstrel, can my sire 
remain at home in security while threaten- 
ed dangers thus darkly hang over the heads 
of our friends. Why was that solemn 
warning pronounced as he bade me fare- 
r 2 


86 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


well, that if we met not here again, we 
might meet in Heaven? and why did he 
charge thee if evening saw not his return, 
to carry me to Cambus-kenneth. Alas! he 
goes to Scotland, there to ransom his 
friends by surrendering his own liberty. 
To do that, which had Douglas’ daugh- 
ter been his son, she might have done for 
him.” She ceased, overcome with sobs and 
tears which choked her utterance.” Cease, 
dearest lady! — cease these boding fears; 
the place he named was only in case his re- 
turn should be beyond his power: that holy 
place was then named as most secure for 
thy meeting with him. He is safe, my 
life on it. And the gallant Greame, Hea- 
ven’s blessings upon him! — my visioned 
sight will yet prove true, thou shalt be 
happy in his love. When have / failed in 
prophecy? remember the stranger, remem- 
ber the slow and solemn presage of wo rny 
harp rung out; are these not fulfilled? did 
we not see this stranger? and alas! this bit- 
ter strife around, too faithfully paints what 
my harp told to its master, a tale of wo! 
believe it now, lady, when cheering 
sounds issue from every string, cheer u]), 
and listen while I touch its strings.” 

Well, (said the maid) I will listen; but, 
Allen, still my tears must flow in measure 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


67 


to the strain/’ She seated herself upon 
the stone (from which she had risen to pace 
the glade with agitated steps) while the old 
minstrel tried to sooth her sorrow by an 
old ballad ; but Ellen gave little atten- 
tion to his lay, her thoughts rested upon 
her absent father. The minstrel had just 
concluded the last verse of Alice Brand,” 
when the stranger in Lincoln green stood 
before them; he had climbed the craggy 
steep of the glade on hearing the sound of 
the harp; Ellen starting, scarcely escaped 
screaming, as she beheld and recognised 
his martial step and stately mien. Oh! 
stranger (she exclaimed, regardless of the 
compliments he uttered on seeing her so 
unexpected) what in this evil hour brings 
you here?” An evil one you cannot call 
it, lovely Ellen, when it brings me once 
more before thee!” Why are you here? 
(again interrupted Ellen) speak; you know 
not the danger which threatens you.” 
“ My guide is now conducting me to the 
path which will lead me to my companions, 
and in this happy way I have been drawn 
hither by the sound of this old man’s 
harp.” “ Happy path! — What, did your 
guide not tell you (said the maid in trem- 
bling anxiety) of the war, of battles about 
to be fought, that every pass from these 


68 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


mountains are strongly guarded?’’ “ No, by 
my faith, (returned the knight in evident 
alarm) I have neither heard nor seen any 
thing which could excite my apprehension 
by news of this kind.” Haste thee, Al- 
len, (cried the maid in alarm) haste to yon- 
der person whose tartans I see, learn his 
purpose, and conjure him, if possible, to 
guide the stranger to a place of safety:” 
then, turning to the kriight, she continued, 
Alas, what prompted you to linger in 
these hills, and why are you here with a 
guide of Sir Roderick’s; I am not able to 
account for this; the meanestserf in his clan 
would not, could not have guided you here 
for any bribe, unknown to him.” “ Sweet 
Ellen, dear indeed must my life be, since 
it calls forth all this care and anxiety from 
so lovely a maiden. My life I hold lightly, 
when weighed with love^ or honour, let me 
tljen profit by the chance I have, and speak 
my bold purpose; I come to bear thee from 
these wilds, unfit for such a lovely blossom, 
to lead thee far from this scene of war and 
feud. Near Bochastle my horses await to 
bear us to Stirling. 1 will place thee in a 
situation well befitting thy looks, and 
guard thee like a tender flower. ” « Oh ! 

cease sir knight, I will not pretend igno- 
rance of thy meaning! it would be but fe- 


male art: I have listened too much to mine 
own praises, and this I fear has caused thy re- 
turn in deathful hour over this dangerous 
track; how shall I atone for the danger which 
may befall thee by my vanity! One way alone 
remains. — Yes, I will tell thee all, and buy 
thy pardon with my shame!’’ She colour- 
ed, trembled, and said at last, “My father is 
an exile, outlawed, and even now the 
price of blood is upon his aged head; with 
me, then, it would be infamy to marry.” 
Vain was this story to the knight, he urg- 
ed his suit with every persuasive argument. 
After a moment’s pause, as if struggling 
with her feelings, she spoke again. Hear 
the truth. Sir Knight! There is a noble 
youth (if he has not fallen) exposed forme 
and my father to the utmost danger, and 
this youth — but why need I say more, 
thou hast my secret, forgive me, be gene- 
rous, and quick depart.” Fitz James knew 
every wily train to gain the female heart, 
but here he felt all would be vain, no glance 
of the coquet shot from Ellen’s eye to 
falsify what her firm voice had pronounc- 
ed. She stood resolute, although the blood 
crimsoned her before pale cheek, and a 
deep and hopeless sigh of agony broke 
from her breast, as her thoughts wandered 
and pictured the death of her beloved Mai- 


70 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


colm as probable. Hope vanished from 
Fitz James’ heart, but with that hope his 
passion grew more fixed. He offered to 
guide her to her father. <‘Oh! thou little 
knowest (she replied to his kind offer) 
what would be thy fate as my guide; thou 
art unacquainted with Roderick’s dark 
heart; safer will it be for us to go alone. 
Haste, and fram old Allen learn if thou canst 
trust the man he speaks with.” Fitz James 
pressed his hand upon his forehead to hide 
the conflict of his breast; he strode a few 
steps, then suddenly returned and approach- 
ed Ellen. Here, lady, one parting 
word! — It chanced in fight once, that my 
sword preserved the life of Scotland’s king, 
this ring (drawing a splendid one from his 
finger as he spoke) the grateful monarch 
gave me, and bade me when I wished any 
thing from him to present it, and it 
should be granted, be it what it would. 
Ellen, / am no courtly lord, but one who 
liv'es by his sword alone. What can I de- 
mand, who have neither state or lands? 
Ellen, he continued, advancing and taking 
her hand — this ring is thine; seek the king, 
every guard and usher knows its sign, seek 
him without delay, this signet will bring 
thee to his presence in security. Claim 
a suit, whatever it may be, as a ransom of 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


ri 


his pledge, it will be granted.’’ He plac- 
ed the ring upon her finger, paused, — kiss- 
ed her hand — and was out of sight in a 
moment. The aged minstrel stood aghast 
at his rapid flight, he joined his guide, and 
was soon lost to the old man and maiden’s 
eyes; they turned to their rude dwelling to 
prepare for their departure in search of the 
king. Fitz James in the meantime cross- 
ed the stream which joins Loch-Katrine to 
Achray. About noon, as he walked be- 
hind his guide, musing upon Ellen in the 
Frosach’s glen, he was roused from his 
musing by a loud whoop from his guide, 
which was no other than Murdoch, who 
had dogged his steps by Roderick’s com- 
mand. Why that shout,” said the knight, 
turning to his guide, “is it the signal of 
treachery,” — and he laid his hand upon his 
blade. “ I shout to scare yon raven from 
his feast,” said the stammering guide, point- 
ing as he spoke. Fitz James looked, and 
beheld the carcase of his steed? “ Ah! my 
gallant gray, it perhaps had been well for 
thee and thy master, had we never seen 
Trosach’s dell. Murdoch, move on be- 
fore — but whistle or whoop, and this sword 
shall silence thee forever.” Jealous of 
each other, silent and sullen they moved 
on. Their path now wound around a pre- 


72 


SCOTTISH JiXILES. 

cipice’s ecl^e. and as they turned an angle, 
a female form blighted by the storm and 
sun, in tattered garments, stood on a cliff 
before them. Glancing round her restless 
eyes upon the rocks and woods, she seemed 
to seek something or some one. Her brow 
was wreathed with the flowers of the gau- 
dy broom, in her hand she waved a plume 
of feathers. As she discovered the tartan 
plaid, she shrieked until the rocks re-echo- 
ed to the sound. But as the stranger ap- 
proached, and she recognised the Lowland 
garb, loudly laughed, wrung her hands, and 
wept. Again approaching, she sweetly 
sung the following song. 

“ They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 

They say my brain is warp’d and wrung*, 

I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 

But were I now where Allan glides. 

Or heard my native He van’s tides. 

So sweetly would 1 rest, and pray 

That Heaven would close my wint’ry day! 

“ ’Twas thus they bade me braid my hair. 
They bade me to the church repair; 

It was my bridal morn, they said, 

And my true love would meet me there; 

But wo betide the cruel guile 

That drown’d in blood the morning smile! 

And wo betide the fairy dream! 

I only waked to sob and scream.” 


SfJOTTISTI EXILES. TS 

Who is this niaid?” said the stranger 
to his guide; what brings her to this rug- 
ged path alone, with torn garments and 
loose locks.^” “ ’Tis Blanche of Devan, 
said Murdoch; ‘‘she is crazy, and a captive 
Lowland lass, taken on the morn she was 
a bride* When Roderick foraged De- 
van-side, her bridegroom made resistance, 
and felt our chieftain’s blade in his heart. 
She has escaped from Maudlin’s cot.” — 
“ Hence, brain-sick fool,” he continued, and 
raised his bow: — Filz James advanced to 
Murdoch; “ strike but one blow, and I’ll 
pitch thee as a peasant pitches a bar, from 
the cliff on which we stand.” “Thanks, 
champion, thanks!” said the poor maiden, 
as she pressed near the stranger’s side; 
“ see (she continued) the gray pennons I 
jirepare to seek my true love! I will not 
lend that savage groom one plume to break 
his fall to the rocks below! no! deep shall 
be that fall, and wolves shall batten on his 
bones; his detested plaid shall wave from 
the briars fair and free, meet signal for, — 
“ Hush, poor maiden, be quiet,” said the 
stranger. “ Oh! yes I will, for thou look- 
est kindly on poor Blanche; my eyes, tho’ 
blinded by tears, still loves the sight of 
Lincoln green; still loves the Lowland 
tongue. My William was a forester true; 


74 


SCOITISH EXILES. 


he wore the hue of green when he stoic 
poor Blanche’s heart away.” She continu- 
ed in a low hurried tone, to sing some fa- 
vourite song of happier days ; still fix- 
ing her eyes fearfully on the clansman, then 
on the knight, and wildly glanced them 
over the glen, then sung the following 
words. 

Tlie toils are pitch’d, and the stakes are set. 

Ever sing- merrily, merrily. 

The bows they bend; and the knives they wet. 
Hunters live so cheerily. 

He had an eye, and he could heed, 

< Ever sing- warily, warily. 

He had a foot, and he could speed. 

Hunters watch so narrowly. 

Fitz James’s mind was agitated by a 
thousand suspicions, and the little song of 
Blanche, Ellen’s hints in the morning, 
and Murdoch’s suspicious shout, brought 
conviction to his mind, that treachery was 
nearer than he first supposed. Not like the 
stag which spies the snare, but like a lion, 
aware of his danger, he seized Mur- 
doch, waved his blade over his head, and 
exclaimed, ‘^Traitor, disclose thy treache- 
ry or die;” the clansman wrested himself 
from the stranger’s grasp and flew over the 
clifis;then turning, with his bended bow. 


S1COTTISH EXILES, 


75 


shot forth a shaft which grazed the crest 
of Fitz James, but thrilled in the bosom 
of the hapless Blanche. With heart of fire, 
and foot like the wind, Fitz James sped 
him after the murderous villain, and just 
as he was within a few yards of his secret 
ambush, the Saxon, like lightning to the 
stately pine, laid him with his kindred dust; 
so deep had his sword pierced the fallen 
Murdoch, that every eflfort with foot and 
hand was used e’er he drew forth his sword 
from the bleeding body. Slowly he re- 
turned to the poor maiden; she was reclin- 
ing against a birch tree, her head rested on 
her hand. She held the fatal shaft which 
she had drawn from her breast, and was 
gazing intensely on it; her wreath of broom 
and feathers, draggled with blood, lay be- 
side her. Fitz James approached, and 
tried to stanch with his handkerchief the 
flowing tide. The maiden feebly laughed, 
looked at Fitz James, then spoke. Stran- 
ger, thy task is vain! this hour of death, 
has given me more reason than I have 
known perhaps for days; for as these ebb- 
ing vains decay, my frenzied visions de- 
part with them; I die a helpless injured vic- 
tim of cruelty. Hope whispers to my heart, 
thou shalt be my avenger. Seest thou 
tliis little tress? — Oh! 1 have worn this 


76 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


tress of yellow hair upon my breast through 
danger, frenzy, and despair ! it once was 
bright as thine, but tears and blood have 
dimmed it now. Were I to tell you when 
it was taken from my guiltless victim’s 
head — Oh! God, my brain would turn! let 
it wave from thy helmet ’till sun and wind 
shall bleach it from these bloody stains, 
then bring it to poor Blanche.” She stop- 
ped, put her hand to her head, looked in 
Fitz James’s face, then spoke again: ‘‘ Oh! 
by the sign of knighthood which you bear, 
and for thy life preserved by mine, when 
in thy path thou shalt see a darksome man, 
with tartans broad and shadowy plume, 
with a hand red wuth blood, and brow black 
with gloom, who boasts himself Clan Al- 
pine’s chief, be thy heart bold, thy weapon 
strong, to revenge the wrongs of William 
and Blanche. Hark ! they watch for thee 
by pass and fell; avoid the path.” She 
struggled, raised the braid to her lips, and 
endeavoured to extend it to Fitz James, 
but expired e’er her hand reached him. 
Tears fell fast from the kind-hearted, brave, 
stranger, as he saw with pitying eyes the 
murdered maid expire* ‘‘ God, in my 
need be my relief. As I revenge thy 
wrongs, sweet maid!” He stooped and 
cut a lock from Blanche’s long tresses, min- 


SCOTl'lSIl EXILES. 


77 


gled it in tijat of the bridegroom’s, then 
dyed them in the maiden’s blood, holding 
them up, he said aloud: By him whose 
word is truth! I swear, no favour will I re- 
ceive till this sad token I bathe in the best 
blood of Roderick Dhu!” A faint halloo 
sounded through the glen; Filz James 
stood erect; Hah! the chase is up, — but 
I’ll let them know the stag at bay is a dan- 
gerous foe.” The path he pursued being 
no longer safe, Fitz James struck in through 
tlie cops and eliffs, often turned from his 
way by streams and precipices. Heart- 
less, fatigued, and faint, from want of food 
and loss of strength, he cast himself in a 
thicket, and thought his perils over for 
tliat day at least, and perhaps for his life. 
“Of all my rash adventures,” he exclaim- 
ed, as he flung himself on the ground, 
“this frantic feat may prove the last! 
What fool migl'.t not have guessed, that 
this Highland hornet would muster up in 
swarms, as soon as they heard of ni}- bands 
at Doun? l^ike blood-hounds, they are in 
search of me. Hark, again, the whistle! 
and now the distant shout; if I proceed, I 
shall only fall upon the foe; Til reimain 
here, until llie shadows of night shall co- 
ver tile bids, then try again my danger- 
ous palii.” The shadows of night came 
G 2 


78 


S0OTT1SH EXILES. 


slowly on, the woods became ©f a darker 
brown, the owl rises from her dell, and the 
fox left his covert, still there remained light 
sufficient to guide the wanderer’s steps, but 
not enough to discover him to a distant 
foe. With cautious steps, and listening ear, 
he climbs the crag and treads the break; 
the midnight mountain breeze, that swept 
through the brake, benumbed his drenched 
limbs with cold; still, he walked on, fa- 
mished, chilled, in dread, and alone, his 
w-ay unknown, tangled sometimes in the 
under-wood, over hills and dales. At last, 
he turned the huge point of a rock; a watch- 
fire burnt before him, beside it in his plaid, 
lay a mountaineer; the approach of the 
wanderer alarmed him, he sprung on his 
feet, with his sword in hand, and said, 
“Saxon, stand! thy name and purpose?” 
“A stranger,” Fitz James answered, 
“ What dost thou wdsh,” said the moun- 
taineer. “ Food, fire, rest, and a guide,” 
was the answer; the mountaineer looked 
with a scrutinizing eye; “ my life’s beset. 
I’ve lost my way, and my limbs are chill- 
ed witii frost,’’ said the wanderer. 

Art thou the friend of Roderick?” at 
last he said. “ I am not, said the bold stran- 
ger. « Thou dares not call thyself his foe,” 
said the mountaineer, advancing a few 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 70 

steps. I dare! to him, and all the band 
he brings to aid his murders,” said the un- 
daunted knight. ‘‘ Bold words these,” re- 
turned the mountaineer, and muttered to 
himself; treacherous scouts,” alone met 
Fitz James’s ears; then turning to him, the 
mountaineer said, <‘sure, he who sayest 
thou comest as a secret enemy, must tell a 
lie, for if my eyes do not deceive me, thou 
bearest the belt and spur of knighthood.” 

‘‘ They lie, by Heaven! come, bold Sir 
Roderick, and of his men the bravest two, 
and let me rest until morn, and I’ll write 
the falsehood on their crests; by these to- 
kens of knighthood, though must know me 
the proud oppressor’s mortal enemy.” 
‘‘Enough, enough; (said the mountaineer) 
sit down and share the couch and fare of a 
soldier.” He laid more fuel on the fire, 
and presented with the flesh of the moun- 
tain deer; and tended him like a guest 
whose presence was welcomed. When 
Fitz James had finished his coarse, but 
needful repast, and warmed his benumbed 
limbs, the mountaineer spoke. “ Stranger, 
I am to Roderick Dhu a clansman born, 
and a kinsman; each word against his ho- 
nour, demands from me resentment by my 
trusty blade. Yet more — upon thy fate a 
mighty prophecy is made. It rests with 


so 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


me to wind this horn, and numbers shall 
overpower thee : it rests with me to se- 
cure thee, worn as thou art; but not for my 
clan or kindred would I depart from ho- 
nour’s laws: stranger is a holy, sacred, 
" name; but wearied as thou art, such an act 
never yet stained the laurels of Roderick’s 
men. Food, fire, rest, and a guide, must 
not be demanded in vain from a Scot. 
Then rest here until dawn of day, my 
plaid shall be shared vvith thee. Myself 
will then conduct thee on thy w^ay through 
watch and ward, till beyond Clan Alpine’s 
out-most guard, as far as the ford of Coi- 
lantogle; from thence, thy sword must be 
thy pass.” “By Heaven! I thank thee for 
thy noble courtesy,” returned the knight. 
“ Let us rest,” returned the mountaineer, 
“ for the bittern’s ciy is on the lake:” say- 
ing this, he shook the gathered heath and 
spread his |)laid upon it; and the brave foe- 
men, side by side, lay peaceful down like 
brothers, and slept until dawn purpled the 
mountains and lit tlie lake. 

THE COMBAT. 

The glimmering red roused the tvar- 
riors from their heathy couch; they gazed 
upon the dappled sky, muttered their ma- 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


81 


tins, when the mountaineer stirred the fire 
and began to prepare their homely meal. 
This being finished, the Highlander threw 
around him his graceful plaid, and true to 
his promise, led the way by thickets and 
mountains in a bewildering path: — from 
this they wound along the brow of a 
precipice, commanding the rich scenes 
beneath the windings of the Forth and 
Teith, and all the vales that lay between, 
till Stirling’s turrets appeared towering to 
the clouds. Again they walked in a gloomy 
copse, so dark as terminated their view of 
each object at the distance of a horseman’s 
lance ; and often so steep, that they were 
forced to use hands and feet in their as- 
cent: sometimes so tangled wdth small 
bushes, that they were drenched in dew 
from the hawthorn, as they forced their 
way beneath its boughs. At length they 
gained the steep hill at whose base Venna- 
char flowed in silver waves. There rose 
the head of proud Bcnlidi; in many ridges 
their pathway still wound on beneath steep 
banks and threatening rocks; a hundred 
men might hold this post against number- 
less foes. The rugged mountain was co- 
vered with dwarf shrubs of birch and oak, 
with shingles bare and cliflPs patches of 
green, with black heather, waved high in 


82 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


rank luxuriousness. Near the lake, osiers 
fringed the swamp and hill: in many 
places the path and hills were torn by the 
wintry torrent and gravel, rocks and sand 
cumbered their way, which they with toil 
were forced to trace; the Highlander, here 
abated his pace, and led his follower 
through the jaws of the pass; then stopping, 
asked the stranger, “ why, or by what 
strange cause, dost thou trouble these wilds 
without a pass from Roderick Dhu?’’ 
‘‘ Brave Gael, my pass hangs in my belt 
at my side, said the knight, touching his 
sword, “yet I dreamed not that I should 
claim its aid, three days since, when I 
came in pursuit of game, and became be- 
wildered in these woods; all then seemed 
peaceful and still as yon slumbering mist of 
the hills. Thy dangerous chief was then 
engaged far ofi'in war, nor soon expected 
back. Thus, at least, said my guide.” 
“ But why (said the Highlander) venture 
a second time in these hills?” Thou a 
warrior (said the knight) and askest me 
this? Do we move by such laws as the poor 
mechanic? is not the soldier’s course free? 
I sought to drive away the lazy hours; 
slight cause will suffice to guide a knight’s 
free footsteps. A gray hound strayed, a 
falcon flown, or the merry glance of a 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


83 


mountain maid; but if a path is dangerous, 
this is sufficient lure for a knight, ‘‘ Keep 
thy secret, I urge thee not to reveal it; — 
yet, e^er ye sought this spot, say, didst 
thou not hear of the Lowland war against 
Clan Alpine by the JGarl of Mar.^- “ No, 
by my word: — I heard of bands prepared 
to guard King James as he followed the 
chase; nor doubt 1, but when they hear of 
this muster of their clans, their pennons 
will float abroad, which now in Doun doth 
peaceful hang.^’ “Free be they flung! 
JVe should be sorry that their silken folds 
should feed the moth. Free be they flung! 
And as free shall float Clan Alpine’s pine- 
banner o’er the brave warriors of his clan. 
But, stranger, since you came peaceful- 
ly, bewildered in our mountains, whence 
this bold boast, which show's you Vich Al- 
pine’s mortal foe.^” “ Warrior, but yes- 
ter-morn, I knew nothing of thy chieftain, 
except as an exiled, desperate man, the 
chief of a band of reb^s; who in the Re- 
gent’s court, and in his presence, with a 
ruffian dagger stabbed a knight; this alone, 
is sufficient to make each true and loyal 
heart, the foe of Black Sir Roderick.” 
Wrath darkened the clansman’s brow; he 
paused a pace, then sternly said: “Didst thou 
hear why he drew his blade.^ didst thou 


84 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


hear that shameful words and a blow 
brought on this revenge of Roderick? 
What reck’d the chieftain, if he stood on 
Highland heath, or in the king’s presence? 
He would right such a wrong, if it were 
even in the courts of Heaven.” ‘‘ Still it 
was outrage: yet, ’tis true, our young so- 
vereign, mewed in Stirling’s tower, was a 
stranger to respect without power, w’hile 
Albany held borrowed command but fee- 
bly. But then, thy chieftain, thy chief- 
tain’s life of robbery, winning his prey by 
the ruined Lowland swain, stripping from 
his industry, his herds and harvest. Me- 
thinks, a soul like thine, would scorn the 
spoils so cruelly, so unjustly won.” The 
mountaineer cast a grim look upon the 
knight, but answered with a disdainful 
smile, — Saxon, when upoij yon moun- 
tain, I saw thee send delightful eyes far to 
the south and east, there, in rich succes- 
sion, lay waving fields, green pastures, 
gentle slopes, and gfoves between. These 
rich, fertile plains, were onco the birth- 
right of the Gael; the stranger came with 
hand of iron, and from us reft our land; 
were we to ask from these mountains, 
bread of the fatted steer; or from these 
shingles, dry for flocks, well might the 
answer be, — To you, and to your sires. 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


85 


belong the claymore and target, I give you 
shelter, your own good blades must win 
the rest.’ Peat, as we arc, in this fortress 
of the north, thinkest thou, we will not 
sally out to spoil the spoiler, or from the 
robber rend his prey? Ay, by my soul ! — 
While one shock of grain rears its head on 
yon Saxon plain; while, of ten thousand 
herds, there strays but one along yon ri- 
ver, the Gael, heir to plain and river, 
shall with strong hand redeem his share. 
Where is a mountain chief to be found, 
who holds, that plundering the Lowland 
fold and field, but just retribution for our 
wrongs? seek other cause against Roderick 
Dhu.” “Thinkest thou (replied the 
knight) no other cause can be brought 
against your chief? What think you of my 
path way-laid, my life bSset?” “ As due 
to your rashness: Hadst thou sent warning 
of thy approach, to seek ihy hound, falcon, 
or Highland maid, free hadst thou been to 
come and return; thy secret path marks the 
spy or foe. And as a spy unheard, thou 
should even now be doomed to death, save 
to fulfil an augur)’.” “ Well let this pass : 
I will not avow fresh cause for enmity to 
chafe thy mood or cloud thy brow. I am 
by promise bound, to match me with this 
proud chieftain: twice have I sought Clan 

li 


86 


SCOTTISH EXILES* 


Alpine’s Glen in peace; but, when I come 
again, I will come with brand, bow, and 
banner, as a leader who seeks his mortal 
foe. For love-lorn swain near was more 
impatient for a sight of his mistress, as I,- 
until I stand before this rebel chieftain and 
his band.” “ Have then thy wish,” he 
answered; then putting a whistle to hi» 
lips, blew a shrill blast, which resounded 
from hill to hill, as the signal flew; instant- 
ly, through heath and copse arose bonnets^ 
spears, and bended bows; on right, on left, 
above, below. The lurking foe sprung 
from the gray shingles, with lance and 
dart; the willows and rushes seem changed 
into axe and brand; every tuft of broom 
gave life to an armed plaided warrior; five 
hundred men stood before them, watching 
their leader’s betk and will. All silent, 
they stood like the loose crags, whose 
threatening mass lay tottering over the 
hollow path. The mountaineer cast a 
glance of pride along the side of Benlid’s, 
which was lined with his men, then fixing 
his dark eye full on Fitz James — ‘‘ How, 
sayest thou now: these are Clan Alpine’s 
warriors ; and, stranger, I am Roderick 
Dhu!” Fitz James was brave, but to his 
heart the life blood thrilled. He manned 
himself with dauntless air, and returned 


SCOTTISH EXILES. * 


87 


the chieftain his haus;hty look. His back 
he placed against a huge rock, his foot 
before, and said: “ Come one, come all, 
this rock shall fly from its firm base, as soon 
as Sir Roderick looked with surprise, 
mingled with respect ; he stood a short 
space; then waved his brawny hand: down 
sunk each warrior in the place each stood; 
in bracken, broom, or heath, brand and 
spear, was lost in osiers or low copse: it 
seemed to Fitz James, that their mother 
earth had swallowed the w’arriors, as he 
vainly looked for some trace of what just 
before saluted his eyes, and scarcely believ- 
ed that they had not deceived him. He 
fixed a look upon the chief before him, to 
which Roderick replied, Fear not — nay, 
that I need not say — but doubt not from 
what thou seest. Thou art my guest; 1 
pledged my word to conduct thee safe to 
Coilantogle, nor would I call one clansman 
to my aid against thy valiant hand, though 
on our strife, lay every vale torn by the 
Saxon from the Highlander. Letusproceed; 
I only meant to show how slender w^as the 
reed on which you leant, when pursuing a 
path through these hills, without a pass 
from Roderick Dhu.’^ Onwards they 
moved; though brave as ever knight could 
foe, Fitz James followed with some appre- 


88 


SCOI'TISH EXILES. 


heiLsion, as Roderick strpde before, he 
knew each copse and heather concealed the 
vanished guardians of the land. And as 
by stealth he cast his eyes around, fancy 
painted the spear and broad sword peeping 
from the deep heather, and the shrill note 
of the plover, sounded in his ears, tlie sig- 
nal whistle for their re-appearance. Nor 
did he freely draw his breath, till far be- 
hind they left the pass; their path-way then 
wound along a wide and level green, with 
neither heather or tree, rush, or broom, 
appeared as a shelter for bonnet or spear. 
They at last reached the torrent’s sounding 
shore. And here the chieftain threw down 
his target and plaid, then turning to the 
Lowlander, spake: Bold Saxon! to his 

promise true, Vich-Alpine has discharged 
his trust. This murderous chief, this 
ruthless man, who heads the rebel, hath 
now led thee safe through all danger and 
peril, far past Cian-Alpine’s outmost post. 
Now, man to man, steel to steel, a chief- 
tain’s vengeance thou shalt find. See, here, 
without advantage over thee I stand, arm- 
ed like thyself; and this is Coilantogle ford. 
Now, Heaven and thy sword must preserve 
thee.” The Saxon paused: — I never de- 
layed when a foe bid me draw; nay, more, 
brave chief, I vowed thy death: yet thy 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


89 


generous faith, m}^ deep debt for life jire- 
served, deserves a better return than this; 
can nothing but blood atone for our feud? 
are there no other means?’’ “No, stran- 
ger, none! And here to find thy flagging 
courage; the Saxon cause rests on thy blade, 
for thus by our prophet spoke fate; 

“ Who spills the foremost foeman’s life, 

“ His party conquers in the strife.” 

'‘‘Then, by my sword, the riddle is alrea- 
dy read; see yonder break, beneath yon 
cliflf, lies Red Murdoch, stiff in blood; 
thus fate has solved her prophecy, then 
yield to fate and not to me. To James of 
Stirling, let us go; and if the king does not 
agree to grant thee favour, I plight my ho- 
nour, oath, and word, that thou shalt be 
restored to thy own native strength, with 
every advantage that aids thee now to guard 
thy land.” Dark lightning flaslied from 
Roderick’s eye. “ And is it to this height 
thy presumption soars, beca'use ye slew a 
wretched kerne; dar’st homage to name, to 
Roderick Dhu? He yields not to man nor 
fate! and thou hast added fuel to the hate I 
feel: — My clansman’s blood demands re- 
venge. What, not yet prepared? — By Hea- 
ven, I change my thoughts of thy valour, 
H 2 


90 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


which I now hold light, as some vain in- 
door knight, who ill deserved my courte- 
sy; whose best boast is to adorn thy bonnet 
with ladies’ hair,” looking as he spoke, 
and pointing to the lock Fitz James receiv- 
ed from the dying Blanche. The taunt 
roused the soul of Fitz James from its soft- 
er, nobler passions, as he fiercely replied: 
^‘1 thank thee, lioderick, for thy speech! 
it nerves my heart and steels my sword, 
for I have sworn to stain this braid in the 
best blood which flows in thy heart. Now, 
let truce depart! and peace be gone; yet 
think not, proud chief, that thou alone art 
maajthr of courtesy and generosity: though 
ndt: .from copse or heath clansmen start 
at the sound of mj/ whistle, yet one small 
blji^t: from this horn, would bring fearful 
^^|£^^^ag*ligainst thee cast. But, fear not, — 
we will try this quarrel hilt to 
hilt^^^ Each drew his falchion; each look- 
^ ed to sun, and stream, and plain, as what 
they might never again behold. Then foot 
to foot, and ‘eyes upon each other, they 
closed in deadly strife. Roderick had 
thrown from his arm his target of tough 
bull-hide, with brazen studs, which often 
in battle, had dashed death aside. Fitz 
James, trained his arms to wield with skill, 
practised every pass and waved his sword, 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


91 


answering for blade and shield; to tlirust, 
! strike, feint, or guard; while less expert, 
i though much superior in point of strength, 
: Roderick maintained the strife, unequal, 

i Three times they closed in strife, and 
I thrice the Saxon sword drank Roderick’s 
' blood; the gushing flood dyed his tartans. 
Fierce Roderick felt the fatal flood as it 
gushed from his many wounds, and show- 
ered his blows with rage, like a madman; 
firm as a rock, his foe stood, as if invulne- 
rable, and foiled his rage by steady skill, 
and cool precaution; until an advantage of- 
' fering, he forced Roderick’s weapon from 
his hand, and backwards borne, upon the 
i; ground, he brought the proud chieftain to 
Ids knee. “ Now, yield thee, or by him who 
made the world, thy heart’s blood shall 
stain my blade!” Th y threats and thy 
mercy alike, I both defy and despise, let 
him yield, who fears to die.” Like a moun- 
tain cat, who guards her young, he sprung to 
the throat of Fitz James, and locked his 
arms around his foe with a desperate grasp, 
that might have been felt through triple 
bars of steel! they tug, and strain, then laW 
upon the ground, Roderick above and Fitz' 
James below; the chieftain’s hand grasped, 
and compressed Fitz James’s throat, and 
planted his knee in his breast, threw back 


92 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


his clotted locks, drew his hand across his 
brow, to clear his sight from the blood 
which issued from his forehead, raised 
his gleaming dagger for deadly blow! But 
hate and fury, with the exhausted stream 
of life, near its close, were in the Saxon’s 
favour; and as the dagger was raised, his 
soul, sense, brain, and eye reeled; down 
came the blowj but in the heath, the erring 
blade found its bloodless sheath. The ad- 
vantage came too late. The fainting chief 
relaxed his grasp; un wounded, from the 
dreadful close, out of breath, Fitz James 
arose, and faltered thanks to Heaven, for 
his life redeemed unhoped, from the des- 
perate strife; next, on his foe he cast a 
look, whose every breath appeared his last; 
then stooping, he dipped the little braid in 
Roderick’s gore. — ‘‘ Poor Blanche! thy 
wrongs are dearly paid; yet, the praise due 
faith and valour, must live or expire with 
thy foe.” He placed the horn which swung 
athissideto hislips, undid thecollarfrom his 
throat, took from his head his bonnet, placed 
it on the ground, then washed the stains of 
blood, from his hands and feet; while thus 
employed the faint tramp of horses was heard 
in gallop, and as the sounds increase, four 
mounted squires, in Lincoln green, made 
their appearance. Two bore lances, and 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 93 

two led loosely by therein, a saddled steed; 
they reined up their horses near Fitz James, 
and with wonder and astonishment viewed 
the bloody spot. “ Ask no questions! ex- 
claim not,’’ said Fitz James, as they cast 
their eyes upon him, and then upon the 
dying chief; you, Herbert, and you, 
Lufifness, alight and bind up the wounds of 
this chief; let the palfrey we destined for 
a fairer weight be drawn up, and place him 
upon it, and bring him straight to Stirling. 
I’ll on before, to seek fresh horse, and 
change my weeds. The sun is high; I 
must be present at the archer’s game at 
noon. Bayard is fleet, De Veaux and Her- 
nies, follow me.” No foot Fitz James 
placed in the stirrup, no grasp upon the 
saddle, but wreathed his hand in the mane, 
and lightly .bounded in the saddle, put the 
spur to his fiery steed, who shot over the 
plain like an arrow from its bow. They 
dash through the rapid torrent, up Carho- 
nies hill; his men following, but not over- 
taking him. Along the swift Teith, past 
Torry and Lendrick, Dearslone and the 
towers of Doune. They sweep like a 
breeze through Ochtertyre, and glance the 
lofty brow of ancient Kier; through the 
Forth! with splash and scramble, they gain 
the opposite shore, leaving Craig-Forth to 


1)4 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


the right; soon approach the bulwark of 
the north gray Sterling towers and the 
town. As up the flinty path they strained, 
suddenly, Fitz James drew in his steed, 
gave a signal to his squire, who instantly 
sprung to his side: Dost thou see yon 
woodsman gray, De Veaux, who is on his 
road to town; of stature tall, so poorly ar- 
rayed? mark the firm active stride, with 
which he scales the mountains? dost thou 
know from whence he comes, and whom 
they call him?” ‘^No, by my word, he 
seems a groom, who in the field or chase, 
would grace a baron’s train.” Out, upon 
thee, De Veaux, cannot fear or jealousy, 
give thee no better eye? before he drew 
near uponthehill, that stately form and step 
I knew; such a one in Scotland is not seen, 
or such a step in our gay court. It is 
James of Douglas, the uncle of our banish- 
ed Earl. Away to court, and give tidings 
of this dreaded foe, the King must be up- 
on his guard, and prepared for the Douglas. ” 
They turned the heads of their steeds to 
the right, and soon won the castle’s postern 
gate. Douglas, when he left Ellen, on the 
gray stone of the dark cave, pursued his 
way from Cambus-Kenneth’s Abbey, climb- 
ed the rocky shelf, and as he moved on, 
thus reasoned to himself: my fears are all 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


95 


I but too true. The noble Malcolm lies now 
' a prisoner; and the fiery Roderick will be 
soon taught to feel the offended monarch's 
vengeance. I alone, can save them from 
their fate, and God grant, that I may not 
be too late for the sacrifice, I now volun- 
tarily make! The abbess, hath promised to 
protect and make my child, the bride of 
Heaven: — Pardon, oh! God, this repining 
tear! for thou who gave her, knows how 
dear this excellent, only child is to my 
heart. But, let this pass, I am myself 
I again, my business is to die. Ye towers, 

I which now rise to my view; within whose 
circuit, a Douglas has bled for his sove- 
f reign. And thou, 0! sad and fatal mound, 

I where oft the brave have bled beneath thy 
axe; where the noblest of our land fell by 
the bloody headsman, prepare now the 
dungeon, block, and nameless tomb, pre- 
pare for Douglas, who now comes to meet 
his fate! But, hark! what blithe peel now 
shakest the Franciscan steeple. And see ! 
upon the street, what crowds are assembled 
together; I guess, by all this mirth, some 
sports are held here to-day; James will he 
there, he loves such sports, where yeomen 
lend their hows, and the rough wrestler 
tries his strength. I’ll follow to the castle 
park, and try my skill: King James shall 


96 


SCOTTISH EXILF-^. 


see if a2;e has tamed tliese sinews, whose 
force, so often in happier days, his boyish 
wonder loved.’’ Onward he hied to join 
the group. The castle gates were flung 
wide upon their hinges; and the quivering 
draw-bridge, rocked as it struck the ground, 
and rung to the clattering feet of Fitz 
James’s courser, and those of his knights. 
While the crowd huzza’d as he passed, 
Fitz James bent low upon his saddle, doff- 
ing his cap to each simpering, smiling, or 
blushing belle. Gravely, he greeted the 
city squire, gave thanks to the dancers, and 
smiled, nodded, and bowed upon them all, 
while they rend with loud acclaims, of 
long live the commons, and noble King 
James.” Behind the King, thronged peers, 
and knights, with many a noble dame and 
beautiful maid, whose flery steed, ill-brook- 
ed the delay occasioned by the steep street 
and crowded way. Strange passions were 
marked on the brows and visages of the 
followers of Fitz Jamses. Their nobles 
mourned their restrained pride; their brows 
were lovvering, and their features stern, the 
mean burgher’s pastimes, they treated with 
disdain. Here chiefs who remained hos- 
tages for their clan, each banished from the 
circle of love, and happy home. The 
waving woods, their feudal power, came 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


97 


quick upon them, and they secretly cursed 
the jiagearitry, which brought them in the 
train. The checkered, motley bands, now 
drew out in the castle-park, morricers with 
bells at their heels, and their blades in their 
hands, around in mazes wheel: The chief 
hero who displayed his feats, was bold 
Robin Hood; his hardy band, with Friar 
Tuck, armed with his quarter-staff, and 
adorned with his cowl; old Scathlock, the 
fair maiden Marian, Scarlet, Mutch, Little 
John, and many brave champions, who 
challenge all within the sound of their bu- 
gles, to prove their skill in archery. The 
Houglas, who stood within the ring, bent 
his bow of might; the shaft struck the cen- 
tre, his next shot split the first in two. 
The prize was a silver arrow, from the 
King’s hand. Douglas approached his so- 
vei eign; he, whom his owui hand had taught 
to rein the steed, and wield the brand. As 
he approached, he fondly watched, while 
the tear of emotion sprung to his aged eye; 
he sought, butin vain, for some answ^ering 
glance of sympathy. But not one glance 
or word of recognition: the monarch gave 
with cold indifference, the glittering prize, 
and Douglas returned with feelings chafed 
to the crowd. The ring was now cleared, 
and hand to hand the manly wrestlers 

I 


98 


SCOl'l’ISH EXILES. 


commence their sports. Two, superior to 
the rest, warm with victory, proudly de- 
manded mightier foes. Their calls remain- 
ed not long unanswered. Douglas,like the 
tall mountain oak, was seen hastening to 
the spot on which they stood. Soon, his 
mighty strength, sent Hugh of Larbel lame 
from the contest, and soon was John of 
Alloa borne senseless from the ring, by 
his astonished comrades. The prize was a 
golden ring; Douglas advanced, with step 
firm, and proud air. The King gave the 
ring, the cold glance of his blue eye fell 
upon the Douglas, like ‘‘frozen dew.” 
Douglas essayed to speak, but his struggling 
soul suppressed the words his tongue 
would have uttered; he turned indignant 
from his monarch, to where the brawny 
yeomen with arms stripped, were hurling 
the massive bar. When each had tried his 
utmost skill, Douglas rent a stone from the 
deep earth, and sent it in fragments whist- 
ling through the sky, a rood beyond the 
farthest mark. The vale rung with loud 
applause; the Ladies’ Rock sent back the 
clang; the king, with looks unmoved, be- 
stowed a purse filled with pieces upon him. 
Douglas smiled with indignation, and 
proudly flung the glittering gold among 
the crowd. They with astonished wonder, 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


99 


now scanned with sharper glance the pow- 
erful figure before them. Whispers arose 
among them, which at last became distinct. 

heart so free, a hand so strong, must 
belong to the Douglas alone.” Old men 
marked his gray locks, and shook their 
heads, winked aside, as they rehearsed to 
the young men, the feats done by him 
against the English, before he was exiled 
from his native land. The women praised 
his stately form, though wrecked by many 
hard storms of life. The youth was struck 
with wonder and awe at his uncommon 
strength. Thus, the murmurs, at last rose 
to loud clamours. Still, not one glance 
from the proud king and his nobles, was 
bestowed upon the Douglas, or called to 
their minds the banished man. No, not 
even from those who, in his day of power, 
were honoured with a place near his side 
at the chase, or found safety beneath his 
shield in the field of battle. Unknown to 
his sovereign, he of course must be forgot- 
ten by his courtiers. The monarch saw 
the sports now flag; he ordered a buck to 
be let loose, to divert their.minds and re- 
new their sports. Two grey-hounds were 
to be loosened upon the stately animal; 
Lupra, the humble companion of Douglas, 
the playmate of his daughter's infancy, 


100 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


and guardian of her later steps; the fleetest 
hound in all the north, saw the brave stag, 
and darted after, leaving the royal hounds 
far behind, dashed on the antlered prey, 
and sunk her white teeth deep in the flank; 
fast gushed the dark blood. The king’s 
huntsman saw the sport terminated by a 
strange intruder, came up, unbound his 
lash, and struck the noble hound; Douglas 
saw the act: he had endured that morn, 
the king’s cold look; the scorn of the no- 
bles; and last the pity of the crowd, more 
humiliating to his proud spirit than all. — 
But Lupra, who had been fondly bred to 
share his board — Lupra, whom Ellen in 
maiden glee had decked with garlands, this 
companion of her infant years; so nearly 
was the name of Lupra connected with the 
image of this darling child, that Douglas 
forgot himself in that blow received by 
his faithful hound. His stifled rage blazed 
forth, with dark brow and flashing eye, he 
strode towards the groom. The crowd 
gave way, as waves before the bark.” 
One buflfet, and the groom lies senseless in 
his gore; such- a blow, “’tvvas like the 
gauntletted glove of steel.” Loud cla- 
mours rose among his comrades, and those 
of his train: Swords and stones were bran- 
dished, ready to revenjrc their clansman. 


SCOTTISH EXILIiS. 101 

But the stern voice of their baron, with- 
held their furious zeal. Back, on your 
lives! Beware the Douglas, he said. Yes! 
king James, behold the Douglas doomed of 
old, to atone the war; Douglas, who has 
been vainly sought for, far and near; he 
now attends, a willing victim; not to crave 
thy grace for himself, but for his devoted 
friends.^’ “ Is it thus, the stern monarch 
replied, my clemency, presumptuous lord, 
is repaid? Of thy rude, ambitious clan; 
thou, James of Bothwell, wert the only 
man my woman-mercy would not know as 
my foe: but shall thy monarch’s presence 
brook this outrage, this injurious blow, thy 
haughty look.^ — No, ho ! captain of the 
guard! take this offender in thy charge. — 
Break off the sports!’^ For, at the signal 
for the Douglas’ apprehension, tumults 
rose, and each staunch yeoman fixed his 
arrow and bent his bow. — Break off the 
sports!” said the monarch, with a dark 
frown and raised voice and bid the horse- 
men clear the ground.” Wild uproar now 
took the place of sports and festivity. The 
horsemen spurred among the crowd, but 
were repelled by threats and insults; the 
aged and weak were thrown to the earth, 
the timorous fled, and the shrieks of wo- 
men filled the air; all became a scerle of 
I 2 


102 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


riot ami confusion. Flint, shaft, staff ami 
bar, assisted in the tumultuous war. Soon 
around the Doug;!as, the royal spears form- 
ed in deep circles, and slowly scale the 
steep pathway; wdiile, on their rear, the 
rabble poured with disordered roar. With 
deep and heartfelt grief, the noble Douglas 
beheld the commons rise against their coun- 
try’s foes; turning to the leading soldier, 
he said — Sir John of Hyndford! it was 
my blade that created thee a knight; for 
this deed, permit me, one word with these 
misguided men. This being granted, he 
thus spoke to tlie tumultuous band which 
followed after them. “ Hear me, my gentle 
friends! ere ye break the band of fealty, 
my life, my honour, and my cause, I h eely 
tender my king and country. Are these 
laws so weak as to require your misguid- 
ed aid.^ If I should suffer catiseless wrong, 
am I so selfish, or my sense of public weal 
so low, or my vengeance on my foe so 
mean, as to require the chords of love to he 
rent asimder, which binds us to our coun- 
tiy? Oh ! no, believe me, in yon dark 
tower, it would add but little, to reflec- 
tion, to sooth my woes. But with that 
loss of freedom, should I, by your mad 
zeal, sorrow over the sad tliought that for 
me the red gore of husbands, sons, and 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


105 


Ijrolhers, WiLs causelessly spilt; for me, mo- 
thers, wives, and sisters, were drowned in 
tears of bitter anguish, that orphans wept 
their fallen sires; laws insulted, bands rent, 
will never add ought but misery to Doug- 
las’ captivity, and cuises upon his aged 
head. Oh! hear my entreaties, my com- 
mands, and by your peaceable return to 
your dut}^, your homes, keep the right to 
love me still.” The crowd’s wild fury sunk 
in tears “as temjiests melt in rain,” with 
lifted liands and eyes, they besought bless- 
ings on the generous Douglas, him whose 
only care was his country’s rights, which 
he prized beyond his own blood. Old 
men on the brink of the grave, blessed him 
for staying thestrife; mothersheld up their 
babes, that they might see the self-devoted 
cliief. Even his rough soldiers’ hearts were 
moved, as they walked sorrowful along 
beliind him with drooping heads, and trail- 
ing arms, I hey led him up the hill, and at 
tlie castle’s bolted verge, with siglis of sor- 
row, resigned their honoured charge. The 
offended, I’ode apart, with bitter thoughls, 
and swelling bosom. ‘‘Oh! Lenox,” he 
Slid with bitterness, who “ would wish to 
rule this changeling crowd. Hearest thou 
tile loud acidaim with wliich they shout for 
Douglas? With tlic same note they strain- 


104 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


ed for king James: and thus they hailed 
the day when I banished this Douglas; and 
thus would do, could he hurl me from my 
throne. Who over this herd would wish 
to reign? Fantastic, fickle, fierce and false. 
Thou many-headed monster, who would 
wish to be a king!^’ Here he was interrupt- 
ed by the arrival of a messenger on a pant- 
ing steed, embossed with sweat and stain- 
ed with blood. “ What news from our 
cousin John of Mar V’ said the king to the 
messenger. ‘‘ He prays, my liege, your 
sports may be kept within your guarded 
ground: for some foul purpose, unknown 
to us, the outlawed chief, Roderick Dhu, 
has summoned his rebellious clan. ^Tis 
said to aid James of Bothwell, that this 
loose banditti has thusarra3^ed themselves. 
The earl of Mar, marched this morning 
from Doune, to repel the insurgents. Soon 
your liege may hear of a desperate battle; 
me he despatched to warn your majesty to 
ride with strong train, until the danger is 
stayed.” ‘‘Then, have I done amiss, by thus 
exposing myself with such a scanty train 
in the sports of the chase; retrace with 
speed thy way, spare not thy steed, the best 
of mine shall supply his place: and tell our 
faithful Mar to stop the intended battle. 
Roderick, their chief, was made our pri- 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


105 


soner by a single knight, and Douglas hath 
submitled himself to our kingdom’s laws. 
The tidings of their fallen chief, will soon 
dissolve the mountain host; nor would I, 
that they shouhl feel the steel of vengeance, 
for their chief’s crimes; bear this message 
quick, fly!” — The turf the flying courser 
spurned, and Filz James returned to his 
tower. On his return to court, the throng 
was soon dismissed, for it suited not his 
mind to mix with gay dance, feasts, or 
minstrel’s songs. Giddy rumour shook the 
town, respecting Douglas, fate the war on 
the border, and each part as it sped like a 
dirty snow ball, gathered as it rolled, until 
night’s dark curtain fell upon the town. 

the guard room. 

The sun awoke through the smoky air, 
of the dark city. What various scenes did 
his red struggling beam not witness. The 
fevered patient, from his low pallet, in 
crowded hospitals, beholds its refreshing 
beams with joy; the mined maiden trem- 
bles at its gleam; the debtor wakes to 
tlioujrhts of duns and jails; the lovelorn 
wretch starts from feverish dreams; and 
iJie wakeful mother, by his glimmering 


106 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


pRle, smooths her sick infant’s coucii, and 
lulls its feeble cries. This first faint beam, 
upon the towers of Stirling, was greeted 
by the rallying notes of the hoarse drum, 
and the heavy steps of the soldiers as they 
relieved the sentinel. The pale lights 
through the arched black stone, showed 
wild shapes in war’s dark garb, faces de- 
formed with beard and scars; haggard from 
the midnight watch, or fevered by the bat- 
tle. On the oak table were seen fragments 
of broken bottles and glasses, cups over- 
thrown, and puddles of wine. Some wea- 
ry, snored on the floor or benches; some 
still laboured to quench their thirst from 
what yet remained; others, chilled with 
watching, spread their hands over the huge 
chimney’s dying embers. These drew not 
their swords for the field, like the tenants 
of a feudal lord, or owned a chief. They 
were adventurers who came from distant 
lands to live by battle. The Italian, the 
swarthy Spaniard, the Switzerland moun- 
taineer, &c. They held a warm debate of 
a bloody battle, fought between Loch-Ka- 
tharine and Achray. Fierce words passed 
among them, and often as their words rose 
high, their hands grasped, or struck the 
sword which dangled at their sides, 
or was their voices low’cred to spare the 


ears of llieir wounded comrades, who, 
weltering in gore, with mangled limbs, and 
deep groans, bore token of the mountain 
sword — these were, though some in a dy- 
ing slate, disturbed by the brawls, coarse 
jokes, and savage oaths by which they 
talked over the battle. Amid these jokes 
and songs was heard the Warder’s Chal- 
lenge. A soldier went to the portal. — 
“ Here, (said the soldier, returning) is old 
Bertram, and with him a fair maiden and 
an aged minstrel.” Scarce had these words 
been pronounced, when the Fleming Ber- 
tram entered the door, followed by a min- 
strel tottering under the weight of years, 
and closely muffled in her jdaid, a moun- 
tain maiden. She shrunk timidly back, 
as her dark quick eye scanned the boiste- 
rous crew. “ What news? what news?” 
was reiterated from every corner of the 
room. ‘‘I know of none, save that we 
fought from noon ’till evening, with foes as 
wild and untameal)le, as the rude mountains 
on which they dwell. On both sides much 
blood was spilt, nor have either side much 
success to boast.” But whence these 
captives,” cried John of Brent, a libertine 
ruffian; ‘‘such spoil as this,” he continued 
with bold stare in the shrinking maiden’s 
face, “ must needs reward thy toil. True, 


108 


SCOTTISH EXILES, 


thou art old, and war surrounds thee; with 
this maid, that harper, get thee an ape, 
and trudge our land as a juggler.” — “No, 
comrade, thou art mistaken; these are no 
spoils of mine; after the fight, this maiden 
and that aged harper, sought our lines, the 
earl of Mar gave them audience, and or- 
dered me to convey them on steeds imme- 
diately. Forbareyour rude mirth, for none, 

I swear, shall do them harm.” “What,” 
roared John of Jirent, “shall thou strike a 
doe beside our lodge, and grudge the fo- 
rester his fee? by Heaven! Pll have my 
share in spite of thee or Mar.” He sprung 
forward, the maiden shrunk pale and af- 
frighted behind the minstrel, who, though 
old and feeble, laid his hand upon his dag- 
ger; Bei tiam witlisiood hi.^ advancing steps; 
Ellen, for it was her, fearing some venge- 
ful strife, sprung fi om her hiding place be- 
tween the angry foes, dia^pped her tartan ' 
screen, and appeared like the “ sun from his 
morning cluud,” yes, the sun of May 
drenched in tears. The .savage soldieis 
gazed as if a descending angel had dropped 
among them; even the bold libertine Brent, 
seemed abashed, yet stood half admiring, 
half in confusion. Ellen boldly spoke,. 

“ soldiers, attend to me! my father was theN 
soldier's friend; cheered them in camps. 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


109 


and with them bled in battle. Not then, 
surely, should the exile’s daughter suffer 
wrong from the valiant soldier, whose 
friend he ever was.” Brent, the most 
forward, in a good or bad cause, now 
spoke — “ I am truly sorry and ashamed, 
poor maiden, for the part I have acted in 
this affair; thou an outlaw’s child, — I too 
am an outlaw by forest laws; I too have a 
daughter, — my poor Rose, if she be living 
now, (here he wiped his hard eye and 
brow, with the back of his rough tanned 
hand,) must be, from thy looks, thy age. 
Hear me, comrades; I will go and call our 
captain: here lies my halbert, (throwing 
it on the floor;) and he that steps over it to 
harm this maiden, shall feel my shaft quiv- 
ering in his base heart! Beware, also, of 
loose speech, or rough jest: Ye all well 
know John Be Brent.” The utmost de- 
corum reigned during the short absence of 
Be Brent, who returned, followed by their 
gallant young captain: gay in mien, and of 
sprightly humour, he entered the room 
with a bold air, and forward speech. ^ The 
high-born Ellen, could not tamely brook 
his scanning, forward looks, and dauntless 
eye; — Yet, young Lewis was a generous, 
amiable youth. But the strange garb of 
Ellen, the place she was in, and her lovely 
ic 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


110 

face, and graceful mien, gave room for 
constructions to her disadvantage, and en- 
couraged his light, thoughtless manner. 
‘‘Welcome,” he said, approaching her with 
an air, “ welcome to Stirling’s lower, fair 
maid! comest thou to seek the aid of some 
champion, on white palfrey, with thy hoary 
harper, like damsels of yore; dost thou 
require a knight, or squire?” The dark eye 
of Ellen, flashed with momentary pride, 
and indignation — she paused, sighed, then 
said, “Oh! what have I to do with pride, 
or resentment? You see here before you, 
(advancing to the young captain as she 
spoke,) a supplicant for her father’s life. 
Through scenes of sorrow, strife, and 
shame,' I come to crave audience of the 
king. See this ring, a royal pledge of 
gratitude to Fitz James, by the monarch, 
I now bring to aid my suit.” The ring, 
young Lewis took; it possessed the power 
of magic, his looks were instantly chang- 
ed to deep respect and attention. “ This 
ring,” he said, “we all know, and feel our 
duty toil; pardon me, lady, if I have failed 
in respect to the bearer; this disguise in 
which I see you, the place, attendants, and 
thy beauty, all have blinded, thrown me 
off my guard; excuse me, I pray thee; and 
as soon as day appears, the king shall know 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


Ill 


what suitor waits upon him. Walk with 
me to a more suitable room; female atten- 
dants shall obey thy commands; there re- 
pose, until the king shall hear of thy ar- 
rival, which will be immediately as he 
rises.” She followed her young conduc- 
tor, with that grace, which bespoke her 
noble birth, but e’er she left the room, de- 
sired her slender purse might be shared 
among the soldiers of the guard. They all 
accepted of the bounty except Brent, who 
bluntly forced back on the maiden the 
proffered gold ; “Forgive,” he said “a haugh- 
ty English heart, let the empty purse alone 
fall to my lot, I’ll wear it in my cap; per- 
haps in war, where gayer crests may dance. 
But to me” — (the sentence was broken by 
the maiden, who gracefully waved her 
hand, and bowed her thanks for this rug- 
ged courtesy.) As Ellen left the hall with 
the gallant Lewis, Allan, the old minstrel, 
turned to John of Brent. “My lady’s 
safe,” said the faithful old bard, “0 letyour 
grace be moved by an old minstrel’s pray- 
ers to see his master. I am his minstrel 
from the cradle, have basked in the sun- 
shine of his prosperity, and now am I 
bound to followjdm, even to the tomb, to 
which the king has doomed his aged head. 
I am the tenth in descent from my sires, 


SCOTTISH EXILES, 


113 

who have struck the harp for his noble 
house; nor has there been one in this 
line, but would have prized his weal far 
above their own. With the birth of the 
Douglas, Allan’s harp has soothed his in- 
fant cries; with his youth, has taught him 
tales of battle, arms, and grace; his com- 
panion was Allan, at feat of field, or chace; 
in manhood’s bloom; in peace, in war, my 
rank I have kept, to cheer his board, to 
sooth his sleep; nor will his faithful bards- 
man leave him, till his last verse is poured 
in doleful tribute, over his ,<iold remains, 
or thy strings, my faithful harp!” look- 
ing with tearful eyes upon the harp he 
bore, ‘‘shall be torn from thee, and thy frame 
dashed upon the cold earth, never more to 
sound in old Allan’s ears. — 0, let me share 
my captive master’s lot; it is my right — 
can you deny the tears of an aged man?” 
“ Little we reck,” said John of Brent, 
“ southern men of high degree; nor how a 
name, or word, makes clansman the vassal 
of his lord. Had I loved to drive the deer 
less, and guided my labouring steer instead, 

I should not have been an outcast here. 
But come, thou pattern of old fidelity, fol- 
low me to thy chieftain.” As he spoke he 
took from a rusty hook, a bunch of pon- 
derous keys, lighted his torch, and left the 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


113 


hall. They passed through grated arches, 
and dark, passages, through jiortals, from 
whose dark cells, the prisoner’s moan, and 
clank of fetters, fell on the old man’s ear, 
who shuddered, as he past the dark abodes 
of miser}^; then on to rugged vaults, damp 
with settled dews, where lay horrid imple- 
ments of torture; the wheel, axe, and heads- 
man’s sword, and many a cursed engine for 
wrenching the joints, and crushing the 
limbs of unfortunate victims. They halted 
at a low-browed porch; Brent gave Allan 
the light, drew back the rusty bolt, and un- 
did the chain; here they both entered: It 
was a gloomy pass-room, of great security, 
yet not a dungeon; for, from the lofty 
grating, day peeped feebly down, and there 
might be seen by its feeble light, the rude 
and antique garniture, which decked the 
damp walls and flinty floor. “Here,” said 
Brent, retiring to the door as he spoke, 
“ thou mayest remain;” he slovvly retired, 
then drew the bolt, and let fall the heavy 
rusty bar. The sound roused from his 
lowly bed, the captive. The minstrel 
looked with wonder and astonishment up- 
on the face he saw; it was not the Douglas, 
but Roderick Dhu! Brent, when he guid- 
ed him to the captive, deemed, as he came 
from Clan Alpine, this was the chief he 

K 2 


114 


SCOTl’ISH EXILES. 


sought. Like a tall ship among ihe.breakers, 
deserted by her crew, — so, on his couch, lay 
Clan Alpine’s dark cliief! Often he essay- t 
ed to rise, as he viewed the aged man be- j 
fore him, and, like the ship, when her sides 1 
lie rocking in the advancing wave that j 
shakes her hull, but cannot heave her from 
the wedging breakers. Oh! how unlike 
her, proud, bound upon the ocean’s wide 
bosom! or his free step, on hill and lee! — . 

‘^What,” said he, with restless impatience ^ 
flashing from his dark eye, what of thy 
lady? of my clan? my mother? Douglas? 
tell me quickly of all! has my fall ruined 
them? Ah, yes, or thou wouldst not have 
been here! Yet, speak — boldly speak, fear 
not,” he said, as he beheld the grief and 
terror of the white haired bard. Who 
fought? who fled? old man, be brief: — 
Who basely lives? who bravely died?’’ “ Pie 
calm, brave chief!” said the old man, as 
soon as the hurried inquiries of the impa- 
tient chieftain ceased; Ellen, is safe;” — 

For that, I thank thee, IPeaven.” — “ We 
have hopes of pardon for the Douglas, and 
lady Margaret is well; for thy clan, never 
has harp told of a more brave, bold, or 
more desperate fought battle. Thy stately 
pine is yet unbent, unscorched, though 
many a goodly bough has fallen by their 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


115 


foes.” The chieftain raised his form from 
the couch, the fever’s fire shot from his 
dark fierce aye; ghastly pale, .mingled with 
his sallow cheeks, and checkered his swar- 
thy brow' — Hark, minstrel!” he said, 
have heard thee oft on a festival day, in 
you lone isle, rehearse wdth thy voice, ac- 
companied by thy harp, a battle, a victory; 
strike them! and fling me a picture of this 
fight, when my men met the Saxons. I’ll 
listen, ’till my fancy hears their clang of 
swords, their din of war, until these grates, 
these walls, shall vanish for a field of fight- 
ing men; then, shall my free spirit burst 
away, as if to join the combatants.” The 
trembling bard, with awe obeyed. Soft, 
slow, and sweet, he touched the trembling 
strings; but soon, the remembrance of the 
fight he had witnessed from the mountain, 
and from what had been faithfully rehears- 
ed by one who was in the fight, roused the 
powers of his song; first in slow and fear- 
ful strains, then loud, fierce, and swift as 
the lightning’s vivid beams. With each 
recital of the battle, the harp kept time; 
the account, though in measured strains, 
was nearly as follows, ‘^The minstrel, 
come once more to look upon the eastern 
ridge of Ben-venue, before he parted, and 
bid farewell to the lovely Loch-Achray; for 


116 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


where can be find in a foreign land, so 
lone, so beautiful a lake — there was no 
breeze upon the Fern; no ripple on the 
calm bosom; all was still and silent. The « 
deer had retired to his covert; the small * 
birds had ceased their vocal strains; even * 
the silver trout, lies in silence in its watery ' 
bed. One dark cloud, gloomily hung like 
a shroud betwixt the high Heaven and 
dusky earth, to wrap Benledi’s distant hill. 
Was it the deep tones of distant thunder, ‘ 
whose solemn sound mutters heavy and 
dreadful along the vale, and echoes from 
the distant groaning hills? Ah! no. The 
warrior’s measured tread, too well dis- , 
solves this belief. Is it the lightning’s 
quivering glance, that streams upon the 
thicket? — No, ’tis the flash of a spear and 
lance, that glitters in the sun’s last linger- ? 
ing beams. I saw the dagger-crest of Mar, Ji 
and the silver star of Moray, wave over 
the cloud of Saxon war, as they came wind- 
ing far up the distant lake. 0! it was a ' 
glorious sight, worth ten years of a peace- 
ful life, to view their battle array. The 
light armed archers, surveyed the tangled 
ground, and, with spikes and spears, flash- 1 
ed in a blaze, upon the forest twilight. \ 
Their horsemen crowded their rear; no 
cymbal clashed; no clarion wrung; the 3 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


iir 


drum Imng silent, and the pipe was still; 
all appeared dumb, save the heavy tread of 
the warrior, and the clang of the armour, 
as one jostled another on rugged ground. 
Not a breath shook their crests, or played 
through the lazy lagging flag; scarcely were 
the frail aspen leaves, which over-shadow- 
ed their path, seen to move. They moved 
on, like a deep-sea-wave in all its pride, 
when undisturbed by rock. The dark 
swelling lake is slowly and cautiously 
passed; and now they gain a plain, narrow 
and broken, before the Trosach’s rugged 
jaws; there the spearsmen pause awhile to 
explore the dangerous glen, then passed 
through the stately archers. At that mo- 
ment, there arose from the dark narrow 
dell, a yell wild, and so horrid, that it 
seemed as all the fallen fiends had sent 
their cry to earth! Like chaff, the archery 
were driven; for life, their flight they strive, 
and shrieks, shouts, and battle cries, rend 
the very rocks; plaids, bonnets, waving 
amid the din, and broad swords flashing 
bright, seemed maddening in their rear. 
Onward, the}" drove, in disgraceful flight; 
fast came their pursuers behind. ‘Down,^ 
cried Mar! ‘your lances lower, bear back 
both friends and foes!’ Like reeds before 
the tempest, at once their lances were 


118 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


levelled low; and closely shouldering them, 
side by side, they received the onset. Like 
a wave with crest of sparkling foam, right 
onward did Clan Alpine come. Above their 
tide, each bright broad-sword was brandish- 
ing like a beam of lightning. Each targe 
was dark below; like the ocean’s mighty 
swing in a tempest, they rushed upon the 
foe. I heard their lances’ shivering crash; 
I heard the broad-swords’ deadly clang, as 
if a hundred anvils rung! But, Moray 
wheeled his rear-ward rank of horsemen 
on the flank of Clan Alpine. ‘ My ban- 
ner men, advance,’ he cried, ‘ I see their co- 
lumn break: Now, gallants, for your fair 
lady’s favour, charge them with the lance.’ 
Furiously, the horsemen dashed upon the 
routed, like deer through the waving 
broom; soon Clan Alpine’s bravest, best 
men, were backward borne, by their rush- 
ing steeds: Where was then the brave Sir 
Roderick in that disastrous hour? one blast 
of his bugle, would have been worth a 
thousand men. Through the pass of fear, 
the battle’s tide was poured; vanished was 
each Saxon’s struggling spear; down drop- 
ped the sword of the mountaineer. Like 
the dark eddies, which suck the wild whirl- 
pool in, so did each brave man fall by their 
conquerors; so did this dark pass devour 


SCOTflTISH EXILES. 


119 


their victims, or rather, retain them for 
their conquerors’ arms. None were now 
left upon this pass of death, save those who 
lay a mass of dirt and gore. Now far 
westward, rolls the din of battle to the 
deep doubling pass within.” The old min- 
strel here paused, and cast his eye upon 
the dark chief lightly, but in melancholy 
strains, touching his harp, yet doubting, if 
to proceed or not. The dark chief raised 
his hand, and the minstrel proceeded with 
his tale. The sun had set; the clouds lie 
in dark banks of smoke above; the lowering 
scowl of Heaven, gave to the lake beneath, 
a dark, inky, blue; the rushing gale from 
the glen, swept the dark waters and rippled 
its bosom with whitening spots of foam. 
Mine eye was fixed on the Trosach’s gorge, 
my ear, upon the sullen sound, which 
came like the rumbling earthquake’s jar, 
to speak the stern and desperate strife, that 
was not tocease, but with the parting breath 
of the contending parties. The sound ap- 
proached more upon the blast; the martial 
train again emerge from the deep wooded 
glen, but not in mingled throng: The 
plaided warriors of the north, took their 
stand high upon the mountain, and thun- 
dered on the vale below, where the dark- 
ening spears of the Sa:;,on appeared ; at bay 


120 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


each shattered band eyed their foemen, 
and sternly stood: their banners, like the 
shattered sail of a ship after a desperate 
"ale, flung their fragments to the wind of 
Heaven. Their broken arms, and disor- 
dered dress, marked the hard conflict of 
the day. Viewing the mountain’s ridge, 
on which the foe were stationed with rest- 
less, anxious, and impatient eyes, the Sax- 
ons stood in sullen mood, until Moray 
pointing with his lance to the isle,'’cried in 
exulting tones, Behold! see, none are left 
to guard its strand, but weak and helpless 
women: ’Tis there this robber band has 
piled his booty; my purse, filled with 
shining pieces, to him who will swim, and 
loose yon shallop from the shore. Then, 
shall we tame these war-wolves, by becom- 
ing lords of their mates, cubs, and dens.” 
From his rank, sprung a spearsman, he cast 
his casque and corslet upon the ground, 
and plunged into the wave: all from above 
saw the act, and knew the purpose. They 
gave a shout, which echoed along Ben-ve- ; 
nue; the Saxons shouted to cheer their j 
mate; at the same time, the screams of the 
helpless women were heard by the moun- 
taineers, who yelled for rage, that they 
were beyond their help. At this awful 
moment, the lowering Heavens sent forth 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


121 


a blast of whirling wind, which swept 
Loch-Katrine’s breast. And well for the 
swimmer that a billow at this instant rose 
between him and the Highland marks- 
man’s eye, for round him showered, with 
hail and rain, the darkened arrows of the 
Gael, winged by deadly vengeance. Vain, 
fell each airow. He nears the isle. And, 
lo! his hand is on the shallop’s prow. Just 
at that moment, a flash of lightning blazed 
upon the strand, and tinged the rolling 
wave; iny eye marked Duncraggen’s wi- 
dow, behind an oak slie stood, like the 
spirit of the isle; her husband’s dirk gleam- 
ed in her clenched hand; all was dark 
again. But amid the darkness, and rush 
of waves, / heard the dying groan: another 
flash! and lo! the spenrsman floats, a crim- 
soned corse, while the stern matron stood 
above him, eyeing the bloody dagger with 
a look of triumph, as it glittered in this 
flash. “ Revenge! revenge!” the Saxons 
cried, which vvas re-echoed by the Geals’ 
exulting shout. In spite of the warring 
elements, again they hurried to the bloody 
engagement, but e’er the desperate fight 
was closed, a knight, on a bloody courser, 
rode amid the din, sprung from his horse, 
and waved betwixt the hosts, from a crag, 
a milk white flag; the clarion and trumpet, 

L 


122 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


rung forth the notes of truce. In the mo- 
narch's name, a herald’s voice forbade the 
war; he told that Bolhvvell’s lord, and Ro- 
derick Dhu, were both in the king’s cap- 
tivity.” Here the minstrel lay ceased; the 
harp escaped his trembling hand ; he had 
often, dui'ing the sad recital, stole a glance 
to see how Roderick brooked his lay: At 
first, the chief, with lifted hand, kept time 
to the strain; soon the motion ceased, and 
strong conflicting passions varied on his 
face, as the song changed; at the last reci- 
tal, his face grew sharp, his hands were 
clenched, as if the very lieart strings strug- 
gled beneath their clasp, his teeth gnashed 
together, his stern eye became glassy, and 
vacant; one struggle, and Roderick’s spirit 
left its monumental clay. The old minstrel 
looked on aghast, while the spirit struggled 
with its earthly tenement; but when he saw 
him a stiffened corpse, he poured his me- 
lancholy wailing over his remains. The 
return of Brent, released the old minstrel, 
who informed him of the mistake in respect 
to the prisoner. After gazing fur some 
moments, upon the dark, long form of the 
proud chief, now laid low, with a few 
apostrophes to his remains, De Brent and 
the old man left the cell in pursuit of the 
Douglas apartment, with slow and solemn 
steps. 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


123 


We now return to Ellen, who with 
bursting; heart, remained in a lordly bower. 
The sun’s first beams fell upon the stained 
glasses, in many gay colours, and brightly 
danced upon the gilded roof, and rich ta- 
pestried wall; in vain was there placed 
before her, the rich and costly collation. 
The proud banquet, and splendid chamber, 
scarcely drew one single, curious, glance, 
from her tearful eyes. She thought of the 
happiness of her lone little isle, where her 
canopy was the red deer’s hide; where her 
noble father shared the simple means her 
hands prapared for him; while Lupra, 
the companion of her infant years, crouch- 
ed by her side, as if to guard her steps from 
harm; and lastly, her thoughts settled up- 
on the features of her noble Malcolm 
Greame. Oh !” she exclaimed aloud, ‘‘now, 
that those dear, but simple joys have flown, 
how deeply does my sad heart prize them.” 
As she finished this sentence, the strains of 
distant music fell upon her ear. With 
cautious tread she sought the window; the 
strains came from a turret that overhung 
her latticed bower. Too well did Ellen 
recollect the voice of Malcolm; sadly he 
spoke of her loss, and his imprisonment, 
in tones of the deepest misery and sorrow. 


124 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


The lay was scarcely ended, and the falling 
tears still trickled down her cheeks, the sigh 
scarcely cooled from her warm heart, when 
a light step struck upon her ear; she turn- 
ed hastily round, when Snowdoun’s grace- 
ful knight met her eye. ‘‘ O! welcome, 
brave Fitz James, she said, in soft, sad 
tones, while a momentary gleam of plea- 
sure illumined her beautiful features: — ■ 
How shall an almost orphan maid, pay 
thee for this deep debt of” — “ 0! talk not 
of debts!” said the graceful knight, while 
pleasure and delight sparkled from his 
eyes. To me, no gratitude is due. ’Tis 
not for me to grant the boon, thy speaking 
countenance would crave, and bid the no- 
ble Douglas live; I can but be thy poor 
guide to Scotland’s king, there thy suit to 
aid. He is no tyrant, though often led 
aside by ire and pride. Come, Ellen, 
fair maiden, come! ’tis time we were in 
his presence, his morning court is assem- 
bled.” With a beating heart, Ellen ac- 
cepted of his offered arm, to which she 
clung, as to that of a fondly loved brother, 
Fitz James, as they passed through galle- 
ries and suits of rooms, kindly and tender- 
ly essayed to sooth her spirits, and gently 
whispered in soft tones, hope for her dute- 
ous suit. Near the door of a high arcade, 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


125 


her steps faltered; Fitz James, half drew, 
half supported her trembling form, as, with 
the other hand, he touched a door. Tlie 
door flew wide upon its noiseless hinges. 
A dazzling blaze of light, discovered to 
the astonished, and half retreating Ellen, 
a thronging group of brilliant figures, of 
knights and ladies. Fitz Jam’es still re- 
mained her supporter: and whispered her 
to move onward. A few faint steps she 
made, then slowly raising her head and 
eyes, which were bent to the floor, she 
gazed around the glittering throng, to fix 
her eye upon the king, and crave her boon. 
Her eye fell on many a portly, princely 
looking figijre; on many a splendid garb, 
but she saw not him she sought. Bewilder- 
ed and amazed, she turned to Fitz James; 
all in the room, stood with head free of 
covering; Fitz James alone wore a cap and 
plume. On him, was each lady’s and 
courtier’s eye intently fixed; midst silks, 
jewels, and furs, he stood in the simple suit 
of Lincoln green, in which Ellen had seen 
I him after thie chase, six days past; yet in 
this simple garb, she felt Snovvdoun’s 
knight, was ‘ Scotland’s king.’ As a wreath 
of snow, before the sun’s bright beams, 
slides from the mountain’s breast, so, poor 
Ellen, confused, and confounded, dropped 
: L 2 


126 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


her hold of (he monarch’s arm, and knelt 
at his feel; no word she uttered, her 
voice was choked by many rushing pas- 
sions. In this supplicating posture, while 
tears glittered in her soft dark eye, she 
held the glittering ring, then njeekly clasp- 
ed her hand upon her bosom.. Her look, 
her attitude/, affected the generous, feeling, 
monarch; he raised her instantly from his 
feet: At the same moment, his eye rekin- 
dling with all its fire, checked by one glance 
the smiles and whispers of liis circling 
throng; gracefully, but with grave dignity, 
he kissed her forehead, with sweet assu- 
rances of the safety and pardon of her sire: 
‘^Yes, fair Ellen,” he exclaimed, as he 
placed her on a seat, and himself by her 
side; ‘‘the wandering, poor, Fitz James, 
claims the crown of Scotland^ This signet 
ring, has yet to be redeemed; for noble 
Douglas, you have nothing to' fear; yester- 
day, we exchanged forgiveness; much has 
he suffered from slandei'ous t^mgucs, I have 
also suffered from his rebelltous kinsman 
Roderick; vve would not yiefd to the cla- 
morous, vulgar crowd; butcalnlily, we heard 
his cause, and aided by our laws, and coun- 
cil, passed our judgment. The feud which 
has rested so long, and so deadly, between 
De Veaux and Glencairn, If have ended; 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


127 


and now we own the lord of Bothwell, as 
a staunch bulwark of ihe crown. Why 
that cloud of doubt across Ihy fair brow? 
All! infidel, dost thou doubt thy monarch’s 
word? Then lord James Douglas,” he 
said, in a loud voice and smiling aspect, 
“thou must confirm this doubtino; maid.” 
Douglas sprung forward ; Ellen, with a 
faint scream of dtdight, flew to his expand- 
ed arms, and hung around his neck. The 
monarch, beheld the affecting scene before 
him, with feeling of sweetest, and most 
holy power; it was the brightest hour of his 
reign, laised from his own generous heart. 
Oh! how sweetly did he say, inwardly, dur- 
ing the scene between father and daugh- 
ter, ‘ Arise, sad virtue, and rejoice!’ lie 
wished not that the eye of a court (perhaps 
a heartless one,) should pry too long upon 
the scene; he stepped lightly between them, 
and gaily said — “Nay, Douglas, steal not 
thus from me my proselyte! ’Tis mine to ^ 
unravel the mystery of tliis meeting.”. 
Then seating himself, and them, he. said, 
“When in disguise, fair maiden, in life’s 
happier, more humble path, I take the 
name of Fitz James, which title of yore 
the name of Snowdoun claimed, it was to 
watch ovei\ insulted laws, to relieve' the 
oppressed and injured!” then, in a; low 


128 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


tone, (meant only for her ear;) Ah! lit- 
tle traitress, none must know, what idle 
dreams, what thoughts, thy eyes’ dark 
witchcraft darted in my soul, and led me 
in a snare, which nearly cost me Scotland’s 
crown, by Joss of life!” then raising his 
voice to meet the ears of busy listeners, he 
continued, “still, thou hast in thy posses- 
sion the little talisman, pledge of my faith 
to Ellen; what boon hast thou to claim?” 
Full well the conscious maiden guessed, 
by the sly meaning glance of the monarch’s 
eye, to w’hom, or what the boon w'ould 
extend. A fear of what she dreaded through 
delicacy to name, the ransom of Malcolm, 
crossed her breast with icy chilis for his 
safety; or fate, she feared her monarch’s 
ire, had settled on him alone; as Malcolm 
had drawn the sword in Douglas’s behalf, 
with rebellious hand : Generosity, and 
maidenly bashfulness conquered, and she 
faintly named “sir Roderick Dhu.” “For- 
bear to name this suit, the king of kings 
has called him to his court. I know' his 
heart; I have shared his kind generous hos- 
pitality, and proved his mighty steel; my 
fairest earldom, would I freely give, to 
raise Clan Alpine’s brave chief! Rut hast 
thou no other boon?” he continued, seeing 
the averted head of Ellen. “Hast thou no 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


129 


other captive to save?^’ Blushing, Ellen 
turned from the king, regardless of liis 
question; and with still deeper colour, put 
the ring in Douglases hand, and dropped 
upon his bosom. Nay, said the king, 
this transfer has robbed my pledge of its 
value; justice must have her victim. El- 
len heard those dreadful words with hor- 
ror, she raised her dark eyes, blinded with 
tears, to the place where the king stood, he 
had moved from the spot, and Ellen again 
flew to the arms of her agitated sire, which 
were expanded to receive her. Again, the 
voice of the monarch,' struck like the tones 
of death upon her terrified ear, — ‘‘ Mal- 
colm, come forth!” At these words, Mal- 
colm entered and kneeled at the monarch’s 
feet. ‘‘For thee, rash youth, no suppliant 
sues in mercy; for thee then,, vengeance 
holds her claim. Thou, who was matured 
in our smile. Who now has paid our care 
by treachery and rebellion. Thou hast, 
contrary to law, sought amid thy clan, a 
refuge for an outlaw, dishonouring by this, 
thy honoured name; no clemency can be 
for thee, no mercy has been sought. — Ho! 
Warder, bring forth fetters for the Greame!” 
Ellen, at the last words, who had listened 
more dead th^ alive, now exerted all her 
powers, and flew to the feet of Scotland’s 


130 


SCOTTISH EXILES. 


king; she knelt, and with raised head, the 
picture of chiseled marble, made her silent 
supplications. She saw not, heeded not, 
the crowd; Malcolm, and he doomed to the 
scaffold, alone occupied her thoughts. — 
Alas!” said the king, thou art come too 
late, justice must be appeased; but mercy 
shall link thee, poor girl, in thy lover’s 
fetters.” — Saying this, his chain of gold, 
he unstrung, flung it over the neck of the 
astonished Malcolm, and gently drawing 
the captive near her, laid the clasp upoti 
the blushing Ellen’s hand. Be happy,” 
he said, with a voice struggling with emo- 
tion, and left the hall, amid the silent ap- 
plause of all who witnessed the noble, gene- 
rous act. 


THE END, 




NOTES, 

FR03M THIS IiikDV OF THIS LAKIS. 

Ua-var, as the name is pronounced, or 
more properly, Uaigh-mor, is a mountain 
to the north-east of the village of Callender, 
in Monteilh; its name signifies the great 
den, or cavern, from a sort of retreat among 
the rocks on the south side, said by tradi- 
tion, to have been the abode of a giant. In 
latter times, it was the refuge of robbers 
and banditti, who have been only extirpat- 
ed within these forty or fifty years. Strict- 
ly speaking, the strong hold is not a cave, 
as the name implies, but a sort of small in- 
closure, or recess, surrounded with large 
rocks, and open above head. It may have 
been originally designed, as a toil for deer, 
who might get in fiom the outside, but 
would fimkijt difficult to return. This opi- 
nion prevdrisi&mong the old sportsmen and 
deer-stalkers in the neiglibourhood. 

HUNTING OP THE STAG. 

When the stag turns to bay, the ancient 
hunters had the perilous task of gaining in 


132 


NOTES- 


upon, and killing;, or disabling the despe- 
j ate animal. At a certain time of the year, 
this was held particularly dangerous, a 
wound received from a stag’s horn, being 
then deemed poisonous, and more danger-, 
ous than one from the tusks of a boar, j 
The adventure is unsafe, and not to beven-^ 
tured, unless by warily getting behind the l 
stag, while he is gazing on the hounds, 
or by watcliing an opportunity to gallop 
roundly in upon him, and kill him with the 
sword. Sir Peter Lee, of Lime, in Che- 
shij-e, invited (says Wilson the historian,) 
the earl of Essex, while I was his follow- 
er, to a stag hunt, in which I followed; 
and having a great stag in chase, and many 
gentlemen in the pursuit, the stag turned 
to the water; and divers, whereof I was 
one, alighted, and stood withdrawn swords, 
to have a cut at him, at his coming out. 
The stag being wonderfully fierce and 
dangerous, made us youths anxious to be 
at him, but he escaped us all; ai^ it was my 
misfortune to be hindered i iEj^ haing; near 
him, the way being slipjfe^, I fell; this 
fall made me more violent .ii^ pursuit of the 
stag, to recover may reputation. And I 
happened to be^ the only horseman in, 
when the dogs set him up at bay; and ap- 
proaching near him on horseback, he broke 


NOTES. 


133 


the dogs, and ran at me, and tore my horse’s 
side with his horns, close by my thigh. 
Then I quitted my horse, and grew more 
cunning (for the dogs had set him up again,) 
stealing behind him, with my sword, and 
cut his ham-strings; and then got upon his 
back, and cut his throat; which, as I was 
doing, the company came up, and blamed 
my rashness in such a hazard.” 

HIGHLAND PLUNDERERS. 

Until the present road was made through 
the romantic pass, in which Fitz James lost 
himself, there was no mode of issuing out 
of the defile, called the Trosach’s, except- 
ing by a sort of ladder, composed of the 
branches and roots of trees. The clans, 
who inhabited these romantic regions, were, 
even until a late period, much addicted to 
predatory excursions, upon their Lowland 
neighbours. In former times, those parts 
of this district, which are situated beyond 
the Gramjl^n hills, were rendered almost 
inaccessibfe ITy strong barriers of rocks, 
mountains, and 'lakes. It was a border 
country, and though on the very verge of 
the low country,' it was almost totally se- 
questered from, and, as it were, insulated, 
with respect to society. ’Tis well known, 

M 


134 


NOTES. 


that in the Highlands, it was, in former 
times, accounted not only lawful, hut ho- 
nourable, among hostile tribes, to commit 
depredations upon one another; and these 
habits of the age, were perhaps strengthen- 
ed by the circumstances which have been 
mentioned. It bordered on a country, the 
inhabitants of which, while they were rich- 
er, were less warlike than they, and wide- 
ly differenced by language and manners. 

PROPHECY OF ALLEN-BANE. 

Such characters existed at the remote 
period alluded to. A seer, was no uncom- 
mon character on the Scottish borders. If 
force or evidence, could authorize us to be- 
lieve facts inconsistent with the general 
laws of nature, enough might be said or 
produced, in favour of the existence of the 
second sight. It is called in Gaelic, Taish- 
ita-raugh,from Taish, an unreal or shadowy 
appearance, and those possessed of the fa- 
culty, are called Tairshatrin, which may 
be translated visionaries. M^tin, a steady 
believer in the second-sight, gives the fol- 
lowing account of it. 

The second-sight, is a singular faculty 
of seeing an otherwise invisible object, 
without any previous means used by the 


NOTES. 


135 


person that sues for that end; the vision 
makes such a lively impression upon the 
seers, that they neither see nor think of 
any thing else, except the vision, as long 
as it continues, and then they appear pen- 
sive, or jovial, according to what was re- 
presented to them. At the sight of a vi- 
sion, the eye-lids of the person are erect- 
ed, and the eyes continue staring, until the 
object vanishes. This is obvious to others, 
who are by, when the persons happen to 
see a vision, and occurred more than once, 
to my own observation, and to others who 
were with me. There is one in Skie, of 
whom his acquaintance observed, that when 
he sees a vision, the inner part of his eye- 
lids turn so far upwards, that after the ob- 
jects disappear, he must draw them down 
with his fingers, and sometimes employs 
others to draw them down, which he finds 
to be the much easier way. Tliis faculty, 
of the second-sight, does not lineally de- 
scend in a family, as some imagine, for I 
know several parents who are endowed 
with it, but their children not, and vice 
versa; neither is it acquired by any pre- 
vious compact. And after a strict inquiry, 
I could never learn, that this faculty was 
communicable anyway whatsoever. The 
seer knows neither the object, time, nor 


136 


NOTES. 


place of a vision, before it appears; and 
the same object is often seen by different 
persons, livin«; at a considerable distance 
from one another. The true way of judg- 
ing as to the time and circumstance of an 
object, is by observation; for several per- 
sons of judgment, without this faculty, 
are more capable to judge of the design of 
a vision, than a novice, that is a . seer. If an 
object appear in the day or night, it will 
come to pass, sooner or later, accordingly. 
If an object is seen early in a morning, 
(which is not frequent) it will be accom- 
plished in a few hours afterwards. If ^at 
noon, it will be accomplished that very 
da3\ If in the evening, perhaps that night; 
if after candles be lighted, it will be ac- 
complished that night; the latter, always 
in accomplishment, by weeks, months, and 
sometimes years, according to the time of 
night, the vision is seen. The following 
are some of the signs. Whpn a shroud is 
perceived about one, it is a sure prognostic 
of death: the time is judged according to 
the height of it about the person; for if it 
is not seen above the middle, death is not 
to be expecjted for the space of a year, 
and perhaps! some months longer; and as it 
is frequently seen to ascend higher towards 
the head, death is concluded to be at hand, 
within a few days, if not hours, as daily 


NOTES. 


137 


experience confirms. Examples of this 
kind were shown me, when the person of 
whom the observations were made, enjoy- 
ed perfect health. If a w'oman is seen 
standing at a man’s left hand, it is a presage 
that she will be his wife, whether they be 
married to others, or unmarried at the 
time of the apparition. 

“If two or three women are seen toge- 
ther, near a man’s left hand, she next him, 
will be his wife first, and so on to the rest; 
of this truth, there have been many instan- 
ces, among my acquaintances. It is com- 
mon for the seers to see a man that is to 
come to the house shortly after; and if he 
is not of the seer’s acquaintance, yet he 
gives such a lively description of his sta- 
ture, complexion, habit, &c. that upon his 
arrival, he answ’ers the character given 
him, in all respects. 

If the person appearing, be one of the 
seer’s acquaintances, he will tell his name, 
as well as other particulars; and, by his 
countenance, whether he comes in a good 
or bad humour. 

“ I have been seen myself by seers, of 
both sexes, when some hundred miles dis- 
tant; by some, who knew me not personal- 
ly, and it happened according to their vi- 
sion. 

M 2 


138 


NOTES. 


To see /a spark of fire fall upon a per- 
son’s arm, or breast, is the forerunner of a 
dead childy to be seen in the arms of that 
person. / 

To sfe a seat empty, at the time one’s 
sitting ip it, is a presage of that person’s 
death shortly after. 

When one, who has obtained the se- 
cond-sight, for the first time, in the night, 
out of doors, comes near the fire, he 
irhmediately falls in a swoon. Some find 
themselves, as it were,. in a crowd of peo- 
ple, having a corpse, which they carry 
along with them; and after such visions, 
they come in with the cold dew of perspi- 
ration standing upon them; and relate what 
person it was, who they had seen, and if 
any of their acquaintance are with them’, 
give a description of them, as well as of 
the bearers of the corpse seen, yet know 
not who they carry. 

All gifted with second-sight, though 
together, do not see the same vision. But 
if one who possesses the faculty, designed- 
ly touch his fellow seer, at the instant of a 
vision’s appearing, then, the second sees it 
as well as the first .” — Martinis descrip- 
tion of the western islands, in 1716. 

To these particulars, innumerable exam- 
ples might be added, and attested by grave 


NOTES. 


139 


and creditable authors; but it seems now 
abandoned to poetic description. 

THE RUSTIC BOWER. 

The Celtic chieftains, whose lives were 
continually exposed to peril, and danger, 
had usually in some sequestered spot of 
their dominions, a place of retreat, for the 
hour of necessity; which, as circumstances 
would admit, was a tower, or cavern, or 
rustic hut, but in a strong, secluded spot. 
One of these last, gave refuge to the unfor- 
tunate Charles Edvs^ard, in his perilous 
wanderings, after the battle of Culloden, 

‘‘ It was situated in the face of a very 
rough, high, and rocky mountain, caUed 
Letternilick, still a part of Benalder,/full 
of great stones and crevices, and ^ome 
scattered wood interspersed. The habita- 
tion, called the cage, in the face of that 
mountain, was within a small thick bush of 
wood. There were first, some rows of 
trees laid down, in order to level a floor for 
a habitation; and, as the place was steep, 
this raised the lower side to an equal height 
with the other; and these trees, in the way 
of joists or planks, were levelled with 
earth and gravel. There were betw^ixt the 
trees, growing naturally, on their own 


uo 


NOTES. 


roots, some stakes fixed in the earth, which 
with the trees, were interwoven with 
ropes, made of heath and birch twigs, up 
to the top of the cage ; it was round, or ra- ! 
ther oval shaped; the whole was covered, ^ 
and thatched. This fabric hung, as it ap- { 
peared, by a large tree, which reclined 
from one end of the roof to the other, and ^ 
gave it the name of the cage, and, by | 
chance, there happening to be two stones at ' 
a small distance apart, in the side next the 
precipice, resembling the pillows of a 
chimney, it served for the fire-place. The 
smoke had its vent out here, all along the 
fall of the rock, which was so much of the 
same colour, that a person could not dis- 
tinguish it the clearest day.’^ 

Homes’s History of the Rebellion. 

SCOTCH HOSPITALITY. 

The Highlanders, who carried their hos- 
pitality to a punctilious excess, are said to 
have considered it churlish, to ask a stran- 
ger his name or lineage, before he had tak- 
en refreshment. Feuds were so frequent 
among them, that a contrary rule would, in 
many cases, have produced the discovery 
of circumstances, which might have ex- 


NOTEfS. 


141 


eluded the guest from the benefit of the 
assistance he stood in need of. 

UNSEEN HARPER. 

Allan-Banc, stationed in some secret spot 
of this rude bovver, filled with his harp, 
each symphony in Ellen’s song. Tlie 
Highlanders delight much in music; but 
chiefly in harps, and clairchocs of their 
own fashion. The strings of the last named 
instillment, are made of brass wire; the 
strings of their harps, of sinews ; these 
strings, they strike either with their nails, 
which are let to grow long for this purpose, 
or with an instrument, appointed for that 
use. They take great pleasure in decking 
their harps and clairchoes, with silver and 
precious stones; the poorer, using in their 
room, crystal. They sing compositions 
of their own, in praise of the valiant, very 
well. These harpers or bards, speak the 
ancient French language, altered a little. 
The harp and clairchoes, are now heard 
of in ancient song, only on the liigldrnds. 
At what period these instruments ceased 
to be used, is not on record; and tradition 
is silent also, respecting it. But as the 
Irish harpers occasionally visited the High- 
lands, and western isles, till lately, the 


142 


NOTES. 


harp might have been extant so lafe as the 
middle of the present century. Thus far, 
we know, that from remote times, down to 
the present, harpers were received as wel- 
come guests, particularly in the Highlands 
of Scotland; and so late as the latter end of 
the sixteenth century, as appears by the 
above quotation, the harp was in common 
use among the natives of the western isles. 
How it happened, that the noisy, inhar- 
monious bag-pipe, banished the soft and 
expressive harp, we are at a loss to tell; 
but certain it is, that the bag-pipe is now 
the only instrument that prevails univer- 
sally in the Highland district.” 

CampheWs Journey through N Britain 
in 1S08. 

The Highland chieftains, to a late period, 
retained in their service the bard, as a fa- 
mily officer. The author of Letters from 
Scotland, an officer of engineers, quartered 
at Inverness, about 1720, gives the follow- 
ing account of the bard’s office, also, of 
his witnessing an exercise of his talents in 
recitation. 

“ The bard is skilled in the genealogy 
of all the Highland families; sometimes, 
preceptor to the young lord; celebrates in 
Irish verse, the original of the tribe, the 
famous warlike actions of the successive 


NOTES. 


US 


he^ds, and sings his own lyrics, as an opi- 
ate to the chief, when indisposed for sleep; 
but poets are not equally esteemed and ho- 
noured in all countries. 

1 happened to be witness of the disho- 
nour done to one, at the house of one of 
the chiefs, where two of these bards were 
set at a good distance, at the lower end of 
a long table, with a parcel of Highlanders, 
of no extraordinary appearance, over a cup 
of ale. They were not asked to drink a 
glass of wine atour table, though the whole 
company consisted only of the great man, 
one of his near relations, and myself. 

After some time, the bard was order- 
ed by his chief, to sing me a Highland 
song ; he readily obeyed, and with a hoarse 
voice, and in a lone of few various notes, 
began, as I was told, one of his own ly- 
rics; and when he had proceeded to the 
fourth and fifth stanza, I perceived, by the 
names of several persons, glens and moun- 
tains, which 1 had known before, that it 
was an account of some clan battle. But, 
in his going on, the chief, at some particu- 
lar passage, bid him cease, and cried out, 
« there’s nothing like that in Virgil or Ho- 
mer.” I bowed, and told him 1 believed 
^o. This, you may believe quite edifying^ 
nnd delightful.” 


144 


NOTES. 


THE GK.EME. 

The ancient and powerful name of 
Graham, (which is spelt in the Scottish 
pronunciation) held extensive possessions! 
in the counties of Dumbarton and Stirling.. 
Few fjimilies can boast of more historical 
renown, having claim to three of the most 
remarkable characters in the Scottish an- 
nals. Sir John, the Graeme, the faithful 
and undaunted partaker of the labours and 
patriotic warfare of Wallace, fell in the | 
unfortunate field of Falkirk, in 1298. The ; 
celebrated Marquis of Montrose, in whom i 
DeRetz saw realized, his abstract idea of the \ 
heroes of antiquity, was the second of these | 
worthies. And notwithstanding the severity ! : 
of his temper, and the rigour with which he ' 
executed the oppressive mandates of the ! 
princes whom he served, I do not hesitate-*: 
to say, or name as the third, John Graham 
of Claver-house, viscount of Dundee; 
whose heroic death, in the arms of victory, ; 
may be allowed to cancel the memory of 
his cruelty to the non-conformists, during 
the reign of Charles II. and James II. : 

EXILED DOUGLAS. 

The exiled state of this powerful race, i 


NOTES. 


145 


in this work. The hatred of James, against 
the race of Douglas, was so inveterate, that 
numerous as their allies were, and disre- 
garded, as the regal authority had usually 
been, in similar cases, their nearest friends, 
even in the most remote part of Scotland, 
durst not entertain them, unless under the 
t closest, strictest disguise. 

* James Douglas, son of the banished earl 
^ of Angus, afterwards well known by the 
title of earl of Morton, lurked, during the 
exile of his family, in the north of Scot- 
land, under the assumed name of James In- 
t lies, (i. e. Reve, or Bailiff.) And as he 
> bore tlie name,” says Godscroft, ‘‘ so did he 
also execute the office of a grieve or over- 
seer of the lands and rents, the corn and 
cattle, of him with whom helived.” From 
the habits of frugality and observation, 
; which he acquired in this humble situation, 
the historian traces that intimate acquain- 
tance with popular character, which en- 
abled him to rise so high in the state, and 
that honourable economy, by wliich he re- 
paired and established the shattered estates 
i of Angus and Morton. 

History of the House of Douglas, 

\ 


N 


146 


NOTES. 


bracklin’s wave. 

The spot mentioned, in which the chief 
of Clan Alpine, Sir Roderick, slept, has a ! 
most beautiful cascade, made at a place call- 
ed the Bridge of Bracklin, by a mountain 
stream, called the Keltie, about a mile from 
the village Callander, in Monteith. Above 
a chasm, where the brook precipitates itself 
from a height of at least fifty feet, there is 
thrown, for the convenience of the neigh- 
bourhood, a rustic bridge, of about three 
feet in breadth, and without ledges; which I 
is scarcely to be crossed by a stranger, 
without awe and apprehension, 

FALLING OF THE SWORD. 

The fall of this sword, upon Fitz James’s ' 
entrance into the rude hall of Douglas, was 
interpreted by the old Allen Bane, as omen 
of ill. The ancient warriors, whose hope 1 
and confidence rested chiefly in their blades, | 
were accustomed to deduce omens from 
them, especially from such as were suppos- 
ed to have been fabricated by enchanted 
skill, of which, it is spoken in romances, 
and legends of those times. The wonder- 
ful sword Skoffhung, wielded by the cele- 
brated Hrolfraka, was of this description. 


NOTES. 


147 


It was deposited in the tomb of the mo- 
narch, at his death, and taken from thence 
})y Skegpjo, a celebrated pirate, who bestow- 
ed it upon his son-in-law, Kormak, with the 
followins: curious direction: ‘‘ The manner 
of usin^ it, will appear strange to you. A 
small bag is attached to it, which take heed 
not to violate. Let not the rays of the 
sun touch the upper part of the handle, 
nor unsheath it, unless thou art ready for 
battle. But, when thou comest to the 
place of fight, go aside from the rest, 
grasp and extend the sword, and breathe 
upon it. Then, a small worm will creep 
out of the handle; lower the handle, that 
he may more easily return into it.” Kor- 
mak, after having received the sword, re- 
turned home to his mother. He showed 
her the sword, and attempted to draw it, 
as unnecessarily, as inefiectually, for he 
could not pluck it out of its sheath. His 
mother Dalla, exclaimed: Do not despise 
the counsel given to thee, my son!” Kor- 
mak, however, repeating his efforts, press- 
ed down the handle with his feet, and tore 
off the bag, when Skoffbung emitted a hol- 
low groan; but still he could not unshcath 
the sword. Kormak then went out wdlh 
Bessus, whom he had challenged to fight 
with him, and dicw apart at the place of 


148 


KOTES. 


combat. He sat down upon the ground, 
and ungirding the sword, which he wore 
above his vestments, did not remember 
to shield the hilt from the rays of the sun. 
In vain, he endeavoured to draw it, ’till he 
placed his foot against the hilt; then the 
worm issued out from it. But Kormak did 
not rightly handle the weapon, in conse- 
quenceLof which, good fortune deserted 
him and it, for as he unsheathed Skoffnung 
only, it emitted a hollow murmur. 

Another story, I beg leave to produce 
from memory, but without better authori- 
ty than the above. A young nobleman of 
high hopes and fortune, chanced to lose his 
way in the town which he inhabited, the 
capital, if I mistake not, of a German pro- 
vince. He had accidentally involved him- 
self among the narrow and winding streets 
of a suburb, inhabited by the lowest order 
of the people; and an approaching thun- 
der storm determined him to ask shelter 
in the most decent habitation near him. 
He knocked at the door, which was open- 
ed by a tall man, of a grizzly and ferocious 
aspect, and sordid dress. The stranger 
was readily ushered to a chamber, where 
swords, scourges, and machines, were sus- 
pended on a wall. One of the swords 
dropped from its scabbard, as the nobleman, 


NOTES. 


149 


after a moment’s hesitation, crossed the 
threshold. His host immediately stared 
at him with such a marked expression, that 
the young man could not help demanding 
his name, and business, and the meaning 
of the look he fixed so earnestly upon him. 
“ I am,” answered the man, the public 
executioner of this city: and the incident 
you have here observed, is a sign, and sure 
augury, that I shall, in discharge of my 
duty, one day cut off your head wdth the 
weapon which has just fallen, and sponta- 
neously unsheathed itself.” The nobleman 
lost no time in leaving this place of refuge 
he had taken; but, engaging in some of the 
plots of that period, was shortly after de- 
capitated by that very sword, and man. 

PIBROCH. 

The connoisseurs in pipe music, affect 
to understand and discover, in a well com- 
posed pibroch, the imitative sounds of 
march, conflict, fight, pursuit, and all the 

current of a heady fight.” To this opi- 
nion, Dr. Beattie has given his suffrage in 
the following elegant passage. The pi- 
broch is a species of tune peculiar, I think, 
to the Highlands and western isles of Scot- 
land, It is performed on a bag-pipe, and 
N 2 


150 


NOTES. 


differs totally from all other kinds of mu- 
sic. Its rhyme is so irregular, and its notes, 
especially in the quick movement, so mix- 
ed and huddled together, that a stranger 
finds it impossible to reconcile his ear to it, 
so as to perceive its modulation. Some of 
these pibrochs, being intended to repre- 
sent a battle, begin with a grave motion, 
resembling a march; then gradually quick- j 
en, into the onset: run off with noisy con- | 
fusion, and turbulent rapidity, to imitate j 
the conflict and pursuit ; then swell into 
flourishes of the triumphant joy ; and, per- | 
haps, close with the wild and slow wailings | 
of a funeral procession.^^ | 

Essays on Laughter and Ludicrous. |j 
Composition. || 

BORDER-SIDE. 

In 1829, James V. made a convention i 
at Edinburgh, for the purpose of consider- j 
ing the best mode of quelling the Border | 
robbers, who, during the license of his mi- | 
nority, and the troubles which followed, i 
had committed many exorbitancies. Ac- 
cordingly, he assembled a flying army of 
ten thousand men, consisting of his princi- 
pal nobility and their followers, who were 
directed to bring their hawks and dogs 


NOTES. 


151 


‘ with them, that the monarch might refresh 
himself with] sport, during the intervals 
: of military execution. With this array, 

he swept through Ettrick forest, where he 
t hanged, over the gate of his own castle, 

! Piers Coekburn of Henderland, who had 
prepared, according to tradition, a feast for 
his reception. He caused Adam Scott of 
[, Tushielaw, also to be executed, who was 
distinguished by the title of King of the 
[ Border. But the most noted victim of jus- 
[ tice, during that expedition, was John 
\ Armstrong, of Gilnockie, famous in Scot- 
I tish song; who, confiding in his own sup- 
‘ posed innocence, met the king with a re- 

I tinue of thirty-six persons, all of whom 
were hanged at Carlenrig, near the source 
^ of the Teviot. The effects of this severity 
was such, that, as the vulgar expressed it, 
the rush bush kept the cow.’’ After this, 
I there was peace and rest a long time, where 
[ the king had great profit; for he had ten 
thousand sheep going in the Elttrick forest, 

; in keeping, by Andrew Bell, who made 
■ the king’s account of them as good as if 
t they had gone in the bounds of Fife.” 

Piiscoiies’ History, 


152 


NOTES. 


HARDIHOOD OF THE HIGHLANDER. 

Hardihood was, in every respect, so es- 
sential to the character of the Highlander, 
that the reproach of effeminacy was the 
most bitter which could be thrown upon 
him. Roderick’s taunt, which might by 
us be looked upon with slight ground for 
anger, on the contrary, was the most gall- 
ing, when he tells Malcolm, ‘‘ ’twere pity, 
to expose such a cheek to the midnight 
winds.” It is reported of old Sir Ewen 
Cameron of Lochicl, when upwards of se- 
venty, that he was surprised by night, on a 
hunting, or military expedition. He wrap- 
ped him in his plaid, and laid down con- 
tentedly upon the snow, with which the 
ground was covered. Among his attend- 
ants, who were preparing to take tlieir rest 
in the same manner, was his grandson, who, 
for his better accommodation, had rolled a 
large snow ball and placed it beneath his 
head. The wrath of the chief was awaken- 
ed, by a symptom of what he conceived to 
be effeminate, and a luxury. Out upon 
thee,” said he, kicking the frozen bolster 
from his head, ‘‘ Art ihou so effeminate as 
to want a pillow?” 

These tales may seem romantic, but I 
am credibly informed, as a positive fact, 


NOTES. 


153 


tliat when the Highlanders are constrained 
to lie among the hills, in cold dry weather, 
they sometimes soak their plaids in some 
river or brook; then holding up a corner of 
it a little above their heads, they turn 
themselves round and round, till they are 
enveloped by the whole plaid; they then 
lay themselves down on the heath, upon 
the leeward side of some hill, where the 
wet and warmth of their bodies make a 
steam, like that of a boiling kettle. This 
method, they say, thickens the stuff, and 
prevents the air and cold’s penetrating. 

Letters from Scotland. 

THE HENCHMAN. 

This officer is a kind of secretary, and 
is used to be ready upon all occasions, to 
venture his life for his master’s defence; 
and at drinking-bouts, he stands behind his 
seat, at his haunch, from whence he de- 
rives his title, and watches the conversa- 
tion, to see if any one offends his chief.” 
‘^An English officer being in company 
with a certain chieftain, and several other 
Highland gentlemen, near Killichumen, 
had an argument with the chief; both being 
well warmed with usky: at last the dispute 
grew very hot. A youth, who was bench- 


154 


NOTES. 


man, not understanding one word of Eng- 
lish, imagined his chief insulted, and there- !{ 
fore drew his pistol from his side, and 1 
snapped it at the officer’s head; but the pis-ii 
tol missed fire, otherwise, it is more than 
probable, he might have suffered death, 
from the hand of the man. It is very dis- 
agreeable to an Englishman, over a bottle,^ 
with a Highlander, to see every one of them 
have their servant standing behind him all 
the while, let the subject of conversation 
be what it may.’^ 

Ihid. ii. 159. 


FIERY SYMBOL. 

When a chieftain designed to summon | 
his clan, upon any sudden or important i 
emergency, he slew a goat, and forming a | 
slender symbol of any light wood, seared i 
its extremities in the fire, and extinguished 
them in the blood of the animal. Disobedi- | 
ence to what this symbol implied, inferred 
infamy. It was delivered to a swift runner, | 
and trusty hand, who ran full speed with it i 
to the next hamlet, where he presented it 
to the principal person, with a single word, 
implying the place of rendezvous. He 
who received the symbol, was bound to 
send or take it forwards with equal de- 


NOTES. 


155 


spatch, to the next village; and thus, it 
]jassed with incredible celerity through all 
the district, which owed allegiance to the 
chief, and also among his allies and neigh- 
bours, if the danger is common to them. 
At sight of this fiery signal, every man 
from sixteen to sixty, capable of bearing 
arms, was obliged to attend, and repair, in 
his best arms, to the spot of rendezvous. 
He who failed to appear, suffered the ex- 
tremities of fire and sword, which were 
emblematically denounced upon this war- 
like signal. This practice, like some others, 
is common to the Highlanders, with the 
ancient Scandinavians, as will appear from 
the following extract, from Olaus Magnus. 
“ When the enemy is upon the coast, or 
within the limits of the kingdoms of the 
north, then presently, by the command of 
1 the provincial governors, with the counsel 
and consent of the old soldiers, who are 
notably skilled in such like business, a staff* 
of three hands length, in the common sight 
of all, is carried by speedy running of 
some active young man, unto that village 
or city, with this command: — That on the 
' third, fourth, or fifth day, one, two, or 
three, or else, every man in particular, 
from fifteen years old, shall come wdth his 
arms, and expenses for ten or twenty days, 


156 


NOTES. 


upon pain tliat his or their houses shall be 
burnf, (which is intimated by the burning 
staff,) or else, the master be hanged, (which 
is signified by a cord tied to it,) to appear 
speedily on such a bank, or field, or valley, 
to head the cause he is called, and receive 
orders from the same provincial governors, 
what he should do. The first messenger 
tells it to the next village, and that to the 
next, and so on, until the hubbub runs all 
over the country.’^ 

History of the Goths. 

BENSHIE. 

Most great families in the Highlands, 
were supposed to have a domestic spirit at- 
tached to them, who took interest in their 
property, and intimate by its wailings, any 
approaching danger. It was from this cir- 
cumstance, that the Benshie startled and 
alarmed Brian, who belonged to the Clan- 
Alpine cause. The spirit of Grant of Grant, 
was called May Maullach, and appeared in 
the form of a girl, who had her arm cover- 
ed with hair. Grant of Rathermurcus, had 
an attendant called Bodachandun, or Ghost 
of the Hill; and many other examples are 
mentioned. 

The Benshie, or Ben scliichian, implies 


NOTES. 


157 


the head of the Fairies, whose lamentations 
were often supposed to precede the death of 
a chieftain of particular families. When she 
is visible, it is in the form of an old woman, 
with a blue mantle, and streaming hair. A 
superstition of this kind, is, I believe, uni- 
versally received by the inferior ranks of 
Irish. 

CORONACH. 

The Coronach of the Highlanders, lihe 
Ululatus of the Romans, and Ulaloo of the 
Irish, was a wdld cry or expression of la- 
mentation, poured forth by the mourners, 
over the body of a departed friend. When 
the words of it were articulate, they ex- 
pressed the praises of the deceased, and the 
loss the clan would sustain hy his death. It 
has, for some years past, been superseded at 
funerals, by the use of the bag-pipe, and 
that also is, like many other Highland pe- 
culiarities, falling into disuse, except in re- 
mote districts. 


TAGHxAIRM. 

The Highlanders, like all rude peo])le, 
liad various superstitious modes of incpiir- 
ing into futurity. One of tlie most noted, 
was the Taghairm, we speak of in Brian the 
o 


158 


NOTES. 


Seer. A person was wrapped up in the 
skin of a newly slain bullock, and deposit- 
ed beside a water-fall, or at the bottom of 
a precipice, or in some wild, strange, un- 
usual situation, where the scenery around 
him, suggest nothing but horror. In this 
situation, he revolved in his mind the ques- 
tion proposed, and whatever was impressed 
upon him by his exalted imagination, pass- 
ed for the inspiration of the disembodied 
spirits, who haunt these desolate recesses, i 
‘‘ It was an ordinary thing among the over 
curious, to consult an invisible oracle, con- 
cerning the fate of families and battles, &:c. 
This was performed in the western isles, 
tliree different ways: the first was by a 
company of men; one of whom being de- 
tached by lot, was afterwards carried to a 
river, which was the boundary between ! 
two villages; four of the company laid hold 
on him, and having shut his eyes, they 
took him by the legs and arms, and then 
tossing him to and fro, again struck him 
with force, against the bank. One of them 
then cried out, “ what is it you have got 
here?” another answers, “ a log of birch 
wood;” llie other says, let his invisible 
friends apjiearfrom all quarters, and relieve 
him, by giving an answer to our jiresent 
demands.” In a few moments after, a 


NOTES. 


159 


number of little creatures came from the 
sea, who answered the question, and then 
disappeared. The man was then set at li- 
berty, and they all returned home.” 

hero’s targe. 

There was a rock so named, in the forest 
of Glenfmlass, by which a tumultuous ca- 
taract takes its course. This wild place is 
said, in former times, to have afforded re- 
luge to an outlaw, who was supplied with 
provisions by a woman, who lowered them 
down from the brink of the precipice above. 
His W'ater, he procured for himself, by 
letting down a flaggon tied toastring, into 
the black pool beneath the* fall. 

CHARACTER OP THE ANCIENT GAEL. 

The Highlanders, with the inconsistency 
of most nations in the same state, were al- 
ternately capable of great exertions of ge- 
nerosity, and of cruel revenge, and perfidy. 
The following story I can only quote from 
tradition, but with such an assurance from 
those by whom it was communicated, as 
permits me little doubt of its authenticity. 

Early, in the last century, John Gunn, a 
noted Catheran, or Highland robber, infest- 


160 


NOTES. 


ed Inverness-shire, and levied black mail 
up to the walls of the provincial capital. 
A garrison was then maintained in the cas- 
tle of that town, and their pay (country 
banks being unknown) was usually trans- 
mitted in specie, under the guard of a 
small escort. It chanced, that, the officer, 
who commanded this little party, was un- 
expectedly obliged to halt, about thirty 
miles from Inverness, at a miserable inn. 
About night-fall, a stranger, in Highland 
dress, and of very prepossessing appear- 
ance, entered the same house. Separate ac- 
commodations being impossible, the Eng- 
lishman offered the newly arrived guest 
a part of his supper, which was accepted 
with reluctance. By the conversation, he 
found his acquaintance knew well all the 
passes of the country, which induced him 
eagerly to request his company on the 
ensuing morning. He neither disguised 
his business and charge, nor his apprehen- 
sions of that celebrated freebooter, John 
Gunn. The Highlander hesitated a mo- 
ment, and then frankly consented to be his 
guide. Forth they set in the morning, and 
in travelling through a solitary and dreary 
glen, the discourse again turned upon John 
Gunn. 


NOTES. 


161 


‘‘ Would you like to see him?” said the 
guide; but without waiting the stranger’s 
answer, whistled, and the English officer, 
with his small party, were surrounded by 
a body of Highlanders, all well armed. 
“Stranger,” resumed the guide, <«/ am 
that very John Gunn by whom you feared, 
to be intercepted, and not without cause; for 
I came to the inn last night, with the ex- 
press purpose of learning your route, that 
I, and my followers, might ease you of 
your charge, by the road. But I am inca- 
pable of betraying the trust you reposed in 
me, and having convinced you, that you 
were in my power, I can only dismiss you 
iinplundered, and uninjured.” He then 
gave the officer directions for his journey, 
and disappeared with his party, as suddenly 
as they had presented themselves. 

THE DUEL. 

I have not ventured to render this duel 
between Fitz James and Roderick, so 
savagely desperate, as that of the celebrat- 
ed Sir JEwan of Lochiel, chief of the clan 
Cameron, called from his sable complexion, 
Ewan Dhu. He was the last man in Scot- 
land, who maintained the royal cause, dur- 
ing the great civil war; and his constant 
0 2 


NOTES. 


162 

incursions rendered him a very unplea-- 
sant neighbour to the republican garri- 
son at Inverlochy, now Fort William. The 
governor of the fort detached a party of 
three hundred men, to lay waste Loch- 
iel’s possessions, and cut down his trees; 
but in a sudden, and desperate attack, made 
upon them by the chieftain, with very in- 
ferior numbers, they were almost all cut to 
pieces. The skirmish is detailed in a cu- 
rious memoir of Sir Ewan’s life. 
this engagement, Lochiel himself had se- 
veral wonderful escapes. In the retreat of 
the English, one of the strongest and 
bravest of the officers retired behind a 
bush, when he observed Lochiel pursuing, 
and seeing him unaccompanied with any, 
he leaped out, and thought him his prey. 
They met one another with equal fury. 
The combat was long and doubtful : the 
English gentleman had by far the advan- 
tage in strength, and size; but Lochiel, ex- 
ceeding him in nimbleness, and agility, in 
the end, tript the sword out of his hand; 
they closed, and wrestled, till both fell to 
the ground, in each others arms. The Eng- 
lish officer got above Lochiel, and pressed 
him hard, but stretching forth his neck, by 
attempting to disengage himself, Lochiel, 
who, by this time, had his hands at liberty. 


NOTKS. 


163 


with his left hand, seized him by the coh 
lar, and jumping at his extended throat, he 
bit it with his teeth, quite tlirough, and 
kept such ahold of his grasp, that it brought 
away his mouth full.” 

SPORTS. 

Every burgh of Scotland, of the least 
note, but more especially, the considerable 
towns, had their solemn play, or festival, 
when feats of archery were exhibited, and 
prizes distributed to those who excelled in 
wrestling, hurling the bar, and other gym- 
nastic exercises of the period. Stirling, a 
usual place of royal residence, was not 
likely to be deficient in pomp, upon such 
occasions, especially since James V. w^as 
very partial to them. His ready ])artici- 
pation in these popular amusements, was 
one cause of his acquiring the title of King 
of the Common, or Rex Rleheiorum, as 
Lesley has latinized it. The usual prize of 
the best shooter, was a silver arrow. Such 
a one is preserved at Selkirk, and at Pee- 
bles. At Dumfries, a silver gun was sub- 
stituted, and the contention transferred to 
fire-arms. 


164 


NOTES. 


JUGGLERS. 

The Jongleurs, or Jugglers, as vve learn 
from the elaborate work of the late Mr. 
Stratt, on the sports and pastimes of the 
people of England, used to call in the aid 
of various assistants, to render these per- 
formances as captivating as possible. The 
glee-maiden was a necessary attendant. 
Her duty was tumbling and dancing; and 
therefore, the Anglo-Saxon version of St. 
Mark’s Gospel, states Herod ias to have 
vaulted, or tumbled before king Herod. In 
Scotland, these female jugglers seem, even 
at a late period, to have been bonds-women 
to their masters, as appears from a case re- 
ported by Fountainhall. Reid, the moun- 
te-bank, pursues Scot of Hardin and his- 
lady, for stealing away from him, a little 
girl, called the Tumbling Lassie, that danc- 
ed upon his stage ; and he claimed dama- 
ges, and produced a contract, whereby he 
bought her from her mother, for 30/. Scots. 
But we have no slaves in Scotland, and 
mothers cannot sell their bairns; and phy- 
sicians attested, the employment of tum- 
bling would kill her; and her joints were 
now grown stiff, and she declined to re- 
turn; though she was, at least, apprentice;, 
and so could not run away from her mas- 


NOTES. 


165 


ter; yet, some cited Moses’ law, that if a 
servant shelter himself with thee, against 
his master’s cruelty, thou shalt surely not 
give him up.” 

FountainhalVs Decisions. 
snowdoun’s knight. 

This discovery of Fitz James being in 
reality King of Scotland, will, probably, 
remind the reader, of the beautiful Ara- 
bian Tale of II Bondocani. Yet the inci- 
dent is not borrowed from that elegant 
story, but from Scottish tradition. James 
V., of whom we are treating, was a mo- 
narch, whose good and benevolent inten- 
tions often rendered his romantic freaks 
venial, if not respectable, since, from his 
anxious attention to the interests of the 
lower, and most oppressed class of his sub- 
jects, he was, as we have seen, popularly 
termed the King of the Commons. For 
the purpose of seeing justice regularly ad- 
ministered, and, frequently, from the less 
justifiable motive of gallantry, he used to 
traverse the vicinage of his several palaces, 
in various disguises. The two comic songs, 
entitled, The Gamberlunzie mon,” and 

We’ll gae nae mair a roving,” are said to 
have been founded upon the success of his 


166 


NOTES. 


amorous adventures, when travelling in the 
disguise of a beggar. The latter is, per- 
haps, the best comic ballad in any language. 
Another adventure, which had nearly cost 
James his life, is said to have taken place 
at the village of Crammond, near Edin- 
burgh, where he had rendered his address- 
es acceptable to a pretty girl of the lower 
rank. Four or five persons, whether re- 
lations, or lovers of his mistress, is uncer- 
tain, beset the disguised monarch, as he 
returned from his rendezvous. Naturally 
gallant, and an admirable master of his 
weapon, the king took post on the high and 
narrow bridge, over the Almond river, and 
defended himself bravely with his sword. 
A peasant, who was threshing in a neigh- 
bouring barn, came out upon the noise, 
Qnd, whether moved by compassion, or by 
natural gallantry, took the weaker side, 
and laid about him with his flail, so efiec- 
tually, as to disperse the assailants, well 
threshed, even according to the letter. He 
then conducted the king into the barn, 
where his guest requested a basin and tow- 
el, to remove the stains of blood. This 
being procured with difficulty, James em- 
ployed himself in learning what was the 
summit of his deliverer’s earthly wishes, 
and found, that they were bounded by the 


NOTES. 


167 


desire of possessing, in property, the farm 
of Braehead, upon which he laboured as a 
bondsman. The lands chanced to belong 
to the crown; and James directed him lo 
come to the palace of Holy Rood, and in- 
quire for the Guid man (i. e. farmer of 
Ballanguich,) a name by which he was 
known in his excursions, and which an- 
swered to II Bondocani of Haroun Alra- 
schid, in Arabian Tales. He presented 
himself accordingly, and found, with due 
astonishment, that he had saved his mo- 
narch’s life, and that he was to be gratified 
with a crown charter of the lands of Brae- 
head, under the service of presenting a 
ewer, basin, and towel, for the king to 
wash his hands, when he should happen to 
pass the bridge of Crammond. This per- 
son was ancestor to the Howisons of Brae- 
head, in Mid Lothian, a respectable fami- 
ly, who continue to hold lands (now passed 
to the female line) under the same tenure. 

SECOND FROLIC OF JAMES. 

Being once beniglited, when out a hunt- 
ing, and separated from his attendants, he 
happened lo enter a cottage, in the midst 
of a moor, at the foot of the Ochil hills, 
near Alloa, where, unknowti, he was kinu- 


168 


NOTES. 


ly received. In order to regale their un- 
expected guest, the farmer desired his wife 
to fetch the hen that roosted nearest the 
cock, (which is always the plumpest,) for 
the stranger’s supper. The king, highly 
pleased with his night’s lodging, and hos- 
pitable entertainment, told mine host, at 
parting, that he should be glad to return 
the civility, and requested that the first 
time he came to Stirling, he would call at 
the castle, and inquire for the glide man 
of Ballinguich. Donaldson, the farmer, 
did not fail to call upon the gnde man of 
Ballinguich, when his astonishment, at 
finding, that the king had been his guest, 
afforded no small share of merriment to 
the monarch and his courtiers; and, to car- 
ry on the pleasantry, he was thenceforth 
designated by James, with the title of King 
of the Moors, which name, and designa- 
tion, have descended from father to son, 
ever since ; and they have continued in 
possession of the identical spot, the pro- 
perty of Mr. Erskine of Mar, till very 
lately, when this gentleman, with reluc- 
tance, turned out the descendant and repre- 
sentative of King of the Moors, on account 
of his majesty’s invincible indolence, and 
great dislike to reform, or innovation of 
any kind, although, from the spirited ex- 


NOTES. 


169 


ample of his neighbour tenants on the same 
estate, he is convinced, similar exertion 
would promote his advantage.’’ 

THIllD STORY OF JAMES. 

‘‘ John of Buchanan, of Auchmar, and 
Arnpryor, was afterwards termed King of 
Kippen,” (a small district in Perthshire) 
on the following occasion: king James V. 
residing at Stirling, in Buchanan of Arn- 
pryor’s time, carriers were very frequent- 
ly passing along the common road, being 
near Arnpryor’s house, with necessaries, 
for the use of the king’s family. Having 
occasion for them at that immediate time, 
he ordered one of the carriers to leave his 
load at the house, and he would pay for it: 
which the carrier refused to do, telling 
him, he was the king’s carrier, and his load 
for his majesty’s use; to which Arnpryor 
seemed to have small regard, compelling 
the carrier, in the end, to leave his load: 
telling him, at the same time, if king James 
was king of Scotland, he was king of Kip- 
pen, so that it was reasonable, he should 
.share with his neighbouring king. The 
carrier, representing this usage, and telling 
the story in Arnpryor’s words, it came to 
the king’s servants, and at last to his 
majesty’s ears, who. shortly after, with 

p 


170 


NOTES. 


a few altcndants, came to visit his neigh- 
bouring king, wlio was, in the mean lime, 
at dinner. King James, having sent a ser- 
vant to demand access, was denied the 
same, by a tall fellow, with a battle-axe, 
who stood porter at the gate; telling, there 
could be no access till dinner was over. 
This answer, not answering the king, he 
sent to demand access a second time, upon 
which, he was desired by the porter to de- 
sist, otlierwise, he would find cause to re- 
pent his boldness. His majesty, finding 
this method would not do, desired the por- 
ter, to tell his master that the good man of 
Hallinguich desired to speak with the king 
of Kip])en, The porter telling Arnpryor, 
he i[i all haste, and in humble manner, 
came out, and received the king, and liav- 
ing entertained him with mucli* sumptu- 
ousness and jollity, became so very agi ee- 
able to the Scottish king, tliat he allowed 
him to take as mud) of any provision he 
fancic)!, carrying that road, as he had' an 
occasion for; and as he liud made Arnpr}'- 
or the first visit, desired him in a few 
da3'S, to j-eturn it at Stirling, which Arn- 
pryor performed accordingl}", and continu- 
ed very much in king Janies’s favour ever 
alter, who always termed him king Kip- 
pen while he lived.’^ 

/hicfiumni'n Esaay on ike Familij of Buchanan, ^ 


FPxAGMENT.— By Ernestine. 


’Twas a fearful night; — yet in the plea- 
sant month of June. The dark angry spirit^ 
of the black mountain rushed from his 
gloomy den, spread his wet sable wings, 
and howled as he cleaved the dense air. 
The old trees of the avenue shook their 
stout limbs like reeds in the wind; and the 
placid bosom of the lake, tossed in angry 
waves, lost its mirror, and foamed upon the 
shore. A cloud, deep and heavy, suddenly 
moved beneath the heavens, and swung 
lijte a shattered sail, hovering above the 
cloud capt mountains to shroud the world 
beneath in premature night. Julia, the 
child of affluence, stood amidst the howl- 
ing elements, watching from the balcony’s 
height the storm, which increased as night 

* This name is given to the hoarse howling winds 
of the mountains, which usually precede a storm. 


172 


FRAGMENT. 


came swiftly on, to increase the gathering 
darkness. Fear was a stranger to her breast. 
Her light muslin drapery fluttered in the 
winds; her long glossy ringlets waved over 
her bosom of snow; while her white clasp- 
ed hands were raised, as if to intercede for 
the impending danger of some object upon 
which her tearful eyes were strained. The 
rain that appeared confined in the black 
cloud above, now burst forth from its shat- 
tered inclosure, as if the gates of heaven 
were once more opened to deluge the 
world; red lightning streamed, quivered, 
forked, and finally fell upon the limbs of a 
decayed tree; bright, blue, and quivering, 
it appeared like a mighty taper throwing 
its vivid light upon the tall trees of the 
forest around; giving to darknes a gloomy 
red aspect. The object upon which the 
blue-eyed Julia gazed was a boat, like a 
speck upon the foaming waves, which bore 
it now to a most astonishing height, and 
the next second, between their separated 
waters, to a fearful depth beneath, proudly 
rolling different ways, while the little boat, 
buoyed by its fragile materials, emerged 
from its dangerous vale, and skimmed 
upon the next approaching surge. With 
quick bounding heart, while a smile dim- 
pled her glowing cheek, Julia, regardless 


FRAGMENT. 


173 


of each quick flash which succeeded the 
other, sprung upon the banister, locked 
her white arms around the columns of the 
balcony, and there fixed, looked upon the 
roaring storm and contending elements lik^ 
a bright spirit from the spheres above, 
bending over the battlements of heaven to 
watch the fierce, dangerous contention of 
the warring elements which lie beneath 
her feet. A faint halloo came upon her 
ear amid the deep growl of the thunder 
and hoarse groans of the winds, which 
swept the bending trees almost bare of 
their spring-clad robings. A bright flash 
glanced in red streamers along the shore, 
and flung its light upon the lake, giving to 
its waters a brilliant hue, and to the dark 
jutting*rocks vv’hich piled their hlack heads 
on high, a deeper gloom, — The boat was 
visibly distinguished struggling across the 
deep ; and Julia’s quick eye, lighted by the 
torch of love, saw, or fancied she saw, Al- 
bert’s graceful form plying the oar with 
manly exertion to obtain a small point of 
the island. — -Again all was wrapt in dark- 
ness. Julia softly ejaculated a wish for a 
momentary light; it came, bright and blue, 
nearly counteracting by its vivid streams, 
the wish of her heart, by dimming her 
strained eyes. She saw, however, the boat 

p 2 


174 


FUAGMEXT. 


fast moored, though tossing like a cork 
upon the wave.— Another flash, with the 
rattling peal of heaven^s mighty artillery, 
following quick upon the flasli, discovered 
a figure, not of any who went in the boat, 
but the bending form of a stranger. His 
figure was plainly seen walking to and fro 
between the shore and a fire which burned 
near him. Sheltered by an overhanging 
cliff or cave, Julia beheld Albert, who ap- 
peared in conversation with the stranger, 
but of what nature she could not form the 
most remote conjecture; for. the old man 
stood aloof from him and his followers. — 
Albert seized his arm ; the negro attend- 
ants kicked and scattered the fire, and all 
seemed buried in pitchy darkness. Sus- 
pense now agitated the anxious breast cf 
Julia; in vain did she raise herself upon 
her toes — the dark spirit of the mountain 
triumphed over the wreck he had made in 
the beautiful valley of Glen more. She saw 
the noble oak prostrate its proud head, 
which it had been raising for years, in a 
second; its flourishing foliage scattered like 
man’s proud hopes, upon the ground, and 
its limbs stript of their bark, a melancholy 
mementt) of the mountain spirit’s wrath. 
She beheld the scathed cypress in splin- 
tered particles blazing far above its bro- 


FRAGMENT. 


175 


thers of the forest, witli its funeral torch 
lighted from the fire of heaven, red gleam- 
ing upon all around — an awful beacon of 
his angry mood. Another flash, full far 
and wide, spread to view the black page 
before her, and Julia beheld the little boat 
at the north-west point of a small island, 
which raised its green head among the 
breakers and waves — it scudded along, 
propelled by the rapidity of the rushing 
stream. Albert, the mark of every glance 
she gave, appeared standing upon the boat’s 
prow with a pole in his grasp, with which 
he warded it off when too near the reef of 
rocks which jutted into the lake. But, 
good heavens, how quick beats her heart, 
how deadly pale the colour of her cheek; 
for see, by yon light which wraps the 
wave in liquid fire, and gives each rock, 
hill, and grove to her view, she beholds 
the boat with Albert (to whom a few days 
would have united her,) hurriedly borne to 
the edge of rocks over which the torrent 
rushes. — Now, as breathless, with eyes 
closed upon the terrific scene, and hands 
clasped over them to shut more closely this 
image from her sight, she stands in speech- 
less agony — a shout, loud and shrill, resem- 
bling the whoop of the savage, struck upon 
her 'ear. — « Thank thee, kind heaven,” 


176 


FRAGMENT. 


she exclaimed, Albert is safe.’’ — With 
the fleet deer’s speed she flew from the 
balcon}'^, bounded over the yard, and in a 
few seconds her light steps trod the vale 
which lies between her father’s mansion 
and the shore. The dark spirit of the 
mountain spread his black wings, dripping 
with destruction’s dews, and fled from the 
scene of desolation to his gloomy cavern. 
A thousand bright eyes peeped through 
the white clouds of heaven to see how na- 
ture bore the demon’s visit. The round 
moon presented its full smiling face to 
cheer the gloomy vale, while the rudely 
torn blossoms, which hung floating in the 
now calm breeze, sent forth their sweet 
fresh odours around. The clouds flew ‘ loose 
and wild, as the mane of a war-horse,’ over 
the star-spangled sky, while myriads of 
glittering gems hung in brilliant hues from 
trees, shrubs, and flowers. Julia, ‘like a 
young envoy sent by Health, with rosy 
gifts upon her cheeks,’ followed by a negro 
slave, (whom she had outstripped in speed) 
now presented herself to Albert, the first 
dearest object he wished to behold, his 
garments dripping with water, his face pale 
from exertion and alarm at the recent dan- 
gerous escape. “ Where, my Albert, have 
you left the old man?” said Julia, when 


FRAGMENT. 


177 


sl^e had congratulated him upon his peril- 
ous escape. “ He is, dear Julia, upon yon 
point between the rolling waters — vain 
have been my endeavours to get him be- 
neath a sheltering roof — he speaks but lit- 
tle, he is old, weak, and infirm, with a beard 
the growth of many years, far upon his 
breast.’^ ‘‘And can we retire to splendour 
and comfort, while this poor aged son of 
sorrow lies thus exposed upon the wet 
ground, with no covering save heaven, no 
shelter for his old head? surely not — 0 
Albert! Humanity looks from her hiding 
place, to which man has driven her, with 
tears of blood streaming from her eye at 
such a sight. “ We have endeavoured, 
nay, used force, to place him even in yon 
uncomfortable spot you see, and we can do 
no more, my Julia.’’ — “He’s got a cave 
and a good fire — do look, ma’m,” said 
Lewis, tl)e steward. Julia cast her eyes 
in the direction Lewis pointed. The old 
man appeared like a druid or hermit, keep- 
ing vigil over the still earth; he sat upon 
the fragment of a moss grown rock, his 
head bald, and divested of his hat, his sil- 
ver locks playing over his shoulders from 
the night breeze, which fanned the green 
foliage of the surrounding trees; at his feet 
lay a cur dog, lean, and wet from the recent 




178 FRAGMENT. 

rain; near his side a stalF lay, on whic^ 
he leaned his wasting form when on hi; 
weary pilgrimage; at the fire a coarse cak( 
of corn appeared baking upon a thin board 
while a leathern-covered flask bespoke th( 
plain drink, as did the humble corn cak< 
the rude fare, of this man of many woes 
Julia contemplated the picture before her 
while the tears of pity fast coursed eact 
other down her cheek. “ Come, Julia, yoi 
see,’^ said Albert, “ I am still dripping fron 
the briny .flood ; let us go to the house; thi 
man must be left to his absurd humour.' 

But we will at least send him somethin 
to make him comfortable, Albert.^^ “I 
will reject your kind offer with scorn; 
will not, he told me, owe man the debt 
a sheltering roof; as he has sworn never 
enter his abode again.” But, some vian 
he will surely accept of,” said Julia. 

Julia, when I proposed sending the 
things, he gave a wild laugh of scorn, b: 
ding me begone, as the spring gave h 
drink, and a little corn, w’hich he exu 
ingly shook in his wallet, produced 
pounding, fare which alone pleased 1 
taste.^ ‘‘And the dog, master Albert, 
just as ill-natured-looking as his old mi’ 
ter,” said Lewis, with a broad smile, aw 
wardly hanging his head, and falling i 


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